Burning Desire
by Bizarre Dreamscapes
Summary: Post OotP AU/evil!Harry/ Voldemort has changed his mind. Instead of killing Harry, he wants something else from the Boy Who Lived. Being who he is he will not allow denial. YAOI /light bashing/warnings inside / D/s, BDSM
1. Dramatis Personae

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything besides the plot. Characters, places and stuff are all JKs!**

**Warning: graphic yaoi, yuri, (there's gonna be het as well, don't you worry), child abuse, violence, torture, character death, light bashing, Blackcest// this is going to be a DARK fic, don't expect characters to act reasonable all the time!! If you don't like this don't read it!**

**Pairings: LV/HP, LV/BL, HG/RW, LL/GW, BL/NT, RL/FG, LVTR/GW (mentioned only), LM/SS**

**Spoilers: first six books, although this is HBP AU but it deals with ideas, themes and characters presented in HBP**

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**Burning Desire**

**Dramatis Personae **

(+) died before the start of this story

main characters are underlined

**The Blacks:**

Sirius Orion Black – Padfoot, Marauder, Harry's godfather, member of the OotP (+)

Regulus Arcturus Black – His younger brother, Death Eater (+)

**The Dursleys:**

Vernon Dursley – Grunnings employee

Petunia Dursley (née Evans) – His wife

Dudley Dursley – Their son, High school student

**The Grangers:**

Mr. Granger – dentist

Mrs. Granger – His wife, dentist

Hermione Jane Granger – Their daughter, Hogwarts student, founder of "Dumbledore's Army"

**The Lestranges:**

Rabastan Lestrange – Death Eater

Rodolphus Lestrange – His brother, Death Eater

Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black) – Rodolphus' wife, Death Eater

**The Longbottoms: **

Augusta Longbottom – member of the OotP

Frank Longbottom – Her son, Auror, member of the OotP, mentally shattered

Alice Longbottom – His wife, Auror, member of the OotP, mentally shattered

Neville Longbottom - Their son, Hogwarts student

**The Lovegoods:**

Xenophilius Lovegood – Publisher of the newspaper _the Quibbler_

Luna Lovegood – His daughter, Hogwarts student

**The Malfoys:**

Lucius Malfoy – Death Eater

Narcissa Malfoy (née Black) – His wife

Draco Malfoy – Their son, Hogwarts student

**The Potters:**

James Potter – Prongs, Marauder, member of the OotP (+)

Lily Potter (née Evans) – His wife, member of the OotP (+)

Harry James Potter – Their son, "The Boy Who Lived", "The Chosen One", supposed savior of the light, Hogwarts student

**The Riddles: **

Thomas Riddle (+)

Merope Riddle (née Gaunt) – His wife, forced him into marriage with a love potion (+)

Tom Marvolo Riddle – Their son, Lord Voldemort, "He Who Must Not Be Named", "You Know Who", founder of the "Death Eaters", Leader of the 'dark' party

**The Tonks':**

Ted Tonks

Andromeda Tonks (née Black) – his wife

Nymphadora Tonks – their daughter, Auror, member of the OotP

**The Weasleys:**

Arthur Weasley – Ministry of Magic employee, member of the OotP

Molly Weasley – His wife, member of the OotP

Bill Weasley – Their son, Gringotts employee, member of the OotP

Charlie Weasley – Their son, currently in Romania, member of the OotP

Percy Weasley – Their son, Junior secretary of the Minister

Fred & George Weasley – Their sons, twins, owners of the shop _Weasleys Wizard Wheezes_

Ronald Bilius Wealey – Their son, Hogwarts student

Ginevra Weasley – Their daughter, Hogwarts student

**Others:**

**Hogwarts:**

Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore – current headmaster of Hogwarts, founder of the "Order of the Phoenix", leader of the 'light' party

Minerva McGonagall – Transfiguration teacher, head of the house Gryffindor, member of the OotP

Filius Flitwick – Charms teacher, head of the House Ravenclaw

Severus Snape – Potions teacher, head of the house Slytherin, member of the OotP / Death Eater, spy

Pomona Sprout – Herbology teacher, head of the house Hufflepuff

Sybill Trelawney – Divination teacher, seer, origin of the prophecy about Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort

Poppy Pomfrey – healer in the hospital wing

Irma Pince – librarian

Argus Filch – janitor

Rubeus Hagrid – gamekeeper

as well as students, ghosts, other teachers and magical creatures

**Death Eaters/ Order of the Phoenix and their supporters:**

Fenrir Greyback – werewolf, supporter of the 'dark' party

Barty Crouch jr. - Death Eater (+)

Alastor 'mad eye' Moody – ex-Auror, member of the OotP

Peter Pettigrew – Wormtail, Marauder, Death Eater

Remus Lupin – Moony, Marauder, werewolf, member of the OotP

Antonin Dolohov – Death Eater

Hestia Jones – member of the OotP

Mundungus Fletcher – thief, intermittent supporter of the 'light' party

Arabella Figg – squib, supporter of the 'light' party

Walden McNair – Death Eater

and more

**Aurors/Ministry:**

Rufus Scrimgeour – current Minister of Magic

Cornelius Fudge – former Minister

Dolores Jane Umbridge – His secretary, short-time headmistress of Hogwarts

Kingsley Shacklebolt – Auror, member of the OotP

and more


	2. Prologue

**Warning: yaoi, yuri, child abuse, character death, light bashing, blackcest (incest), violence, torture**

**Pairings: LVHP, LVBL, BLNT, RWHG, LLGW, FGRL, LVTRGW (mentioned only), LMSS**

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**Burning Desire**

**Prologue**

The dreams had changed everything.

Every night he would see into his nemesis' mind. And what he saw made him want to return there again and again. It explained so much yet was it enigmatic. It fascinated him.

Through the link between their minds he saw the past of the savior of the light. He saw what the other had seen.

He did not want to _kill_ Harry Potter. And he did not need to any more.

No, he wanted _Harry Potter_.

He had once told the boy that they were quite alike and his dreams proved that he had been right.

He would make the Boy Who Lived his. His alone.

One may say that would be impossible, that it was insane, that it would never work.

But he knew better. He knew what to do, he knew Harry Potter. His weaknesses, his desires and his hatred.

And he would use that to draw the boy to him.

He did not want to force him, although he could do that easily. He wanted Harry to come to him, to crave his touch.

Dumbledore was a fool, the old man's blasphemic believe he could bring him down had given him the perfect weapon. He was the weapon. He was the seducer.

He looked in the mirror.

In the glass the beautiful face of seventeen year-old Tom Riddle showed a triumphant smile.

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**Review please!**


	3. New Conditions

**A/N: **

"**_curses, hexes, jinxes_"**

"**speech" **

***mind speech* **

**::Parsletongue::**

_**thoughts, visions, dreams, memories**_

**Pairings: LVHP, LVBL, BLNT, HGRW, GWLL, RLFG, LVTRGW(mentioned only), SSLM**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**New Conditions**

Life was almost perfect for Vernon Dursley.

He had recently received a promotion at _Grunnings_. His son did well at Smeltings, his own old high school. Admittedly, Dudley's grades were not _that_ good, but he had a lot of friends and was still junior boxing champion. Vernon could not expect more of his son, after all he did not want a mollycoddled fag. His darling Petunia was still a loving, loyal wife who could not care any better for her husband and son. Vernon was very proud of that especially regarding the increasing numbers of divorces. (In his opinion it was not a surprise that the state went to the dogs. Divorces were only one of the manifold reasons.) Vernon had purchased a new huge television and a DVD player due to his promotion. The Dursleys were better liked by the neighbors than ever since the last garden party.

Frankly, things could not get any better. Well, almost.

There was still the boy. Vernon's damned nephew.

If the boy had not been there they could have gone on holiday. Majorca or the Canaries. But instead they had to deal with the boy.

At least he did the cooking and gardening and washing and cleaning – in other words all housework – when he was at Number 4.

Although Vernon had never bothered, even he had noticed that the boy behaved strange this summer. He was dull and apathetic, he obeyed all orders without objection and beard his punishment without lamentation. It was almost boring now for Vernon.

He did not see himself as pedophile or homosexual though. Vernon Dursley was absolutely convinced that he was a 'normal', decent citizen. Alone, he would have never even gotten the idea to punish his nephew like that. It was Petunia who had come up with it.

Vernon did not know what he would do without that wonderful woman.

For this kind of punishment was the right thing for the boy. It showed him where his place was. And after some time Vernon had come to enjoy their sessions. First, it had been strange for him. But he had come to understand that it was the only way to deal with the boy. That it was to his own good.

But that did not make up for the fact they were missing Majorca. Of course that gave him and Dudders the opportunity to really appreciate their new home cinema. Which they were just doing.

The door bell rang. Vernon sighed. It was half past nine, who the bloody hell could that be?

"Dudley, did you invite any friends?" he asked his son.

"Nope," came the reply. Dudley did not even move his eyes off the television, not to speak of getting up to answer the door. Good boy, not impressed by some negligibility.

Petunia was rummaging in the kitchen, she probably had not heard the bell at all.

So it was up to Vernon. Maybe it was some idiot from _Grunnigs_.

Grunting, Vernon got up from the couch and walked into the hall. Woe them if it were some charity punks.

He opened the door ready to either play friendly (if it was _Grunnings_, neighbors or Dudley's friends) or tell them to piss off (if it was anybody else).

Although his visitor belonged into the second category (anybody else) Vernon missed to immediately come to terms. This guy was not a charity punk, that was for sure.

On his doorstep stood a boy around the age of Vernon's own son. But Vernon was sure that this was not a friend of Dudleys. The boy was tall and thin (nothing too desirable in Vernon's opinion), extremely pale (even less desirable, red cheeks were a sign of health) and had shoulder length raven black hair (what looked a little gay to Vernon). But Vernon barely noticed any of that.

What kept him from shutting the door in the boy's face was the way he was dressed. He was wearing a black suit and (strangely) sunglasses. The whole attire however looked expensive and in case that this guy might be somehow rich or influential Vernon waited. One never knew.

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle," the boy said. He had a full, velvet voice that sounded very pleasant. "I take it that you are Mr. Dursley?"

Vernon had never heard of someone named Riddle. He nodded. "What do you want here?"

Riddle smiled. His smile was unnerving, like he knew something Vernon did not. "I am here to see Mr. Potter," Riddle answered.

Potter? What had he to do with the boy? Was he of... the same kind? They were about the same age, was it possible that they knew each other from that freak school? If that was the case... well, Vernon had learned from his encounter with the Weasleys that it was better to deal with the boy's gang where the neighbors could not see.

"Come in," Vernon said.

He lead Riddle in the hall and closed the door behind them.

Riddle looked around in the room. The way he moved reminded Vernon of how Petunia acted when they were invited to people whose house was not as neat as theirs and she wanted to avoid touching anything.

"How do you know my nephew?" Vernon asked suspiciously.

"We share a long relationship," was all that Riddle answered.

What kind of relationship? Vernon regarded the Riddle guy with his long hair. He had always thought of Potter as a fag...

"Not in that way," Riddle said sharply.

Vernon narrowed his eyes. "Are you... are you _one of his kind_?" he asked bluntly in a low voice.

Riddles face showed no emotion. "One of his kind?" he repeated. "Now what is _that _supposed to mean, Mr. Dursley?"

In this moment Petunia exited the kitchen. "I heard you talking Vernon," she was saying, then she stopped and stared at Riddle.

Before Vernon could say anything, the boy accosted Petunia: "So I finally meet Lily's lovely sister."

_How can he know Petunia's sister? _Vernon wondered. _She died fifteen years ago._

Petunia ignored or was oblivious to his mocking tone and snapped: "That bitch is no sister of mine."

"I figured." said Riddle and turned to Vernon. "I want to see Harry now."

Vernon shrugged. This guy was definitely strange. If he did not know better he would say even stranger than the boy.

"BOY! BOY!" he shouted. There was no response from upstairs.

"Lazy brat," Vernon scolded.

"I'll find the way," Riddle said coldly and went upstairs.

"Is he one of _that kind_?" Petunia asked Vernon.

The man frowned. "I think so," he said. His day had just gone _a lot_ worse.

-

He hated it to be at the muggles house. Voldemort hated that he had to wear this ridiculous attire, but the old coot's wards would dismantle any kind of disguise. And he did not need that bloody squib spy to notice an unknown wizard. It took all his composure to remain calm. He had seen in Dursley's mind what he did to Harry Potter. And he had seen what Dursley would like to do to _him._ Normally the dirty muggle would not have lived to see another day but this was not Voldemort's business. If someone was going to touch them it would be Harry. He inwardly smiled at the thought.

It was not hard at all for him to locate Harry. His magic was unmistakable. He noticed the cat flap as he opened the door to Potter's room.

Voldemort had seen this room in his dreams, stuffed with old broken toys which belonged to Harry's deformed cousin. In a cage on the windowsill sat an owl which looked like it may fall off the bar out of apathy every moment.

Harry Potter sat on the bed and stared at the opposite wall. His gaze was empty, his eyes dead. He was almost as pale as Voldemort and had deep shadows under his eyes. He was also incredibly thin, something that may not be obvious on the first sight due to his wide clothes.

Harry Potter did not even notice that Voldemort entered. He just kept staring at the wall opposite to his bed, not bothering to look at the door.

Voldemort had expected Harry to be in a bad condition but he had not thought it would be _that bad_. He noticed faint traces of blood on the wall. He was beyond furious. It did not matter that it was Harry Potter, the reason of his fall, the object of his desires, no muggle had the right to do anything like that to a wizard. Voldemort felt this stronger than anyone else because he knew what Harry was going through. For he had made similar experiences.

Through their bond he could feel fear, sadness, grief, exasperation and resignation from Harry. Yet, there was something else. Swirling under the surface he could feel hatred.

Voldemort glided over to the bed and sat down next to Harry. The boy had not even once looked in his direction.

"So what now?" Harry asked suddenly. His voice sounded hoarse and indifferent.

"You knew it was me?" Voldemort asked softly.

Harry shrugged. "No one else enters so silently."

Voldemort said nothing.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" Harry asked after a while, in a bitter tone.

"No," Voldemort answered.

Harry snorted. "Sure," he said sarcastically. "You don't need to think of some brilliant plan. Just go ahead and do it."

"If you are son convinced that I'm going to kill you, why don't you do anything about it?" Voldemort asked.

"And what should I do?" Harry snapped angrily. "I have no wand, I'm a physical wreck and Dumbledore's fucking blood wards didn't even work! You will kill me, _love _or not, bloody prophecy or not!"

"The prophecy is a fake, Harry," Voldemort said softly, allowing himself to touch Harry's hair.

The boy did not move away. "What?" he asked.

"The prophecy. Dumbledore made it up, together with that imbecile Trelawney. It's a lie." Voldemort explained.

Harry shook his head. "No. That's a trick. _You _are lying to me. I won't believe anything."

"I can prove it to you." Voldemort offered.

"How?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"You need to open your mind completely and I will show you," Voldemort said.

"Open my mind? Do you think I'm stupid?" Harry hissed.

"Didn't you know that the link changed after I opened it completely at the Ministry?" Voldemort asked.

He brought his other hand to Harry's cheek and gently stroke his face.

"Don't touch me," Harry whispered acidly.

Voldemort laughed softly. He placed his palms at the boys temples despite Harry's struggles to pull away.

"_Legilimens_," he said.

Whatever pathetic attempts Harry made to put up Occlumency shields, they were fruitless. Voldemort opened their link and immediately images of Harry's life flooded in his mind. He skipped through them searching for a certain one he had seen during Harry's summer holidays. It was the conviction of the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr which Harry had witnessed in Dumbledore's pensive.

"Pay attention Harry," he ordered. Although Harry was caught up in the memory he could still hear him.

Harry sat perfectly still now. Voldemort's fingertips barely touched his skin. He could have done this without physical contact but this way it would be gentler and therefore easier for Harry to stay linked to reality.

From this memory Voldemort skipped forward to the memory of seeing Trelawney making the prophecy in the pensive.

"Do you notice the difference? Watch carefully, the verges are slightly blurred. The memory itself is also a tiny bit transparent and some colors are off..." he commented.

Then he withdrew his hands and left Harry's mind.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked Harry.

Harry's expression was hard and bitter. In direct comparison it was obvious that the memory was a fake. He did not answer the question, instead he asked:

"If there was no prophecy how can Snape have heard one? Since you obviously thought there was a prophecy last year."

Voldemort smirked. "Now that's interesting. It seems like Dumbledore wanted this 'prophecy' to be heard. I have ..._tested_ Severus' mind and indeed he has heard those words. I showed him Dumbledore's version and he noticed that Trelawney's voice had sounded different. She spoke perfectly normal when he overheard her."

Harry's face darkened, but his anger was not directed at Voldemort. "Why did Dumbledore do that?" he snarled.

"I think he guessed how I would react. Maybe he hoped that your mother would sacrifice herself, maybe he thought you would become his warrior, maybe he just hoped I would die, it's hard to say." Voldemort debated.

Harry's face froze between shock, hurt, disbelief and anger.

"Harry," Voldemort said softly. "Do you realize what that means?"

Harry nodded in a robotic way. Then he suddenly shouted:

"It means that everything was for nothing! _Everything!_ Dumbledore took everything from me!" Voldemort watched in mild interest from his position on Harry's bed. Harry had jumped up and paced in the room. "All my life, it's been for _nothing!_" He waved his left hand in Voldemort's face. "_I must not tell lies!_ Everyone has lied to me! And it's always me! _Me _to solve their problems, _me_ to fight their war, _me _to blame when things don't work out!" He pointed accusingly at Voldemort. "And YOU! Why do you even care!? Everything's fine for you now. I'm not the bloody chosen one, you don't even have to bother killing me! What's your fucking problem, Riddle, that you keep coming back to me?"

Voldemort bounced up from the bed. He would not allow such behavior no matter who it was, no matter what Harry had been through. Before the boy could react he had his hand around Harry's throat and slammed him into a wall.

Standing flush against Harry so the latter could not move, Voldemort hissed:

"_You _are my problem. I never really wanted to kill you. Don't get me wrong, I would have done it but now that I don't have to... You will be mine, Harry."

Harry shuddered and tried to wrest from his grip, but failed.

"No," Harry snapped. "I _don't_ want you. I have people who love me. I'm not _alone._"

"Are you not? What do you know about this people, Harry? I could tell you things about them which come close to Dumbledore's betrayal." He tightened his hand on Harry's throat.

::I'm the only one you have.:: he hissed in the boy's ear.

"You still killed my parents!" Harry choked out.

Voldemort let him go and took a step back. He shrugged. "What's done is done," he said.

Harry glared at him. "It's always that easy for you, isn't it?"

Voldemort smirked. "What do you want me to say, Harry? That I'm sorry?" he sneered. "I'm not. And even if I was what would that change? It wouldn't make them alive either."

"Leave me alone," Harry ordered icily.

"No," Voldemort simply replied.

Harry said nothing, just kept standing with his back to the wall.

"Don't you want to know the truth?" Voldemort asked. "Don't you want to finally see through the lies you have been fed?"

Again Harry remained silent.

"I know you are curious," Voldemort taunted him in his velvet, seductive voice. "Can you continue living a lie? Now that it's become hollow?"

Harry hesitated. "Fine," he finally said. "Show me the truth."

"We have to go to London," Voldemort simply said.

"I don't have anything," Harry clarified. "They locked my things away."

"I know," Voldemort said. "You won't need them. It won't take long."

Harry shrugged. He did not really care. If Voldemort wanted to kill him he could as well have done it here.

"We have to go outside the house to apparate," Voldemort informed him. "The wards make it impossible to apparate in or out."

As they went downstairs he started:

"Harry, I know what Dursley does to you..."

"Don't touch him," Harry interrupted. "No torture, nothing."

"That's too bad," Voldemort muttered. Harry glared.

They were about to leave when a voice roared:

"BOY! Where do you think you're going?"

"London," Harry said without hesitation.

Dursley's face went red. "You aren't going anywhere! You are grounded! And you," he turned to Voldemort, "leave my house. NOW!"

"Are you afraid you have to masturbate tonight, Dursley?" Voldemort asked venomously, pushing Harry out through the door.

"I forbid that it is spoken to me like that in MY HOUSE," Dursley shouted.

Voldemort took his wand out and pointed it at Vernon. The man eyed it suspiciously, taking a step backwards. "It is only because of Harry that you will remain unharmed, Dursley, for now. Beg on your knees that he doesn't change his mind."

With that he followed Harry outside closing the door behind himself.

"Give me your hand, Harry," Voldemort instructed. The windows of the neighbor house were dark. The squib would probably not see them.

Only with slight aversion the Savior of the Light obeyed the Dark Lord.

With a crack they disappeared into the night.

* * *

Voldemort apparated Harry to London. They appeared somewhere in the midst of the metropolis and not without surprise Harry noticed that it was muggle London.

It was a mild summer night and at 10:30 pm the streets were still crowded with people. Voldemort did not seem concerned at all that anyone might notice that they just appeared out of thin air. And actually no one did notice. They were just two teens who blended in with the crowd. Nobody cared about them or payed them a second look.

It was more than strange for Harry to see Voldemort in his _very _youthful appearance. He looked like Riddle from the diary. Harry wondered how he had managed to change his body like that.

Even if Voldemort looked relatively harmless now (even more so in the muggle clothes; due to his childhood he had matched them together correctly - unlike many other wizards) Harry was not going to let his guard down. He was sure that Voldemort counted on the disturbing effect of the unexpected change.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. He did not like to be alone with Voldemort at all and he was not quite sure why he had given in to the man's proposal.

"To the _Leaky Cauldron_," Voldemort answered. Even his voice sounded slightly different. It had lost the high sharpness, which was replaced by an alluring silkiness. Riddle almost seemed to be made to attract. Harry would not have been very surprised if he was an incubus.

"The _Leaky Cauldron_?" Harry asked. This place seemed so ...normal. Not somewhere he expected the Dark Lord to take him. But he did not mind. He really did not need to visit yet another grave yard with Voldemort. "What for? Are we going to Diagon Alley?" The last question was not completely serious.

Voldemort chuckled. What a strange sound. "We are going to _Diagon Alley _tomorrow," he answered. "For tonight you'll stay at the _Leaky Cauldron._"

He turned to face Harry. After regarding him briefly he waved his wand at Harry.

"This will do," he commented.

"What did you do?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"A simple disguise charm. You won't be recognized," Voldemort shrugged.

Harry touched his face carefully. It still _felt _the same. "How do I look like now?" he inquired, still suspicious.

"Not very different," Voldemort just said. "Look in a mirror later if you want to know."

"Aren't they going to recognize _you_?" Harry asked.

"Me?" Voldemort asked incredulously. "Almost no one knows that I look like this."

"How did you do that anyways?" Harry asked. He couldn't help but be curious.

"Oh, _I _didn't do this. Dumbledore did it," Voldemort said casually.

"_Dumbledore!?_" Harry repeated. Why the hell should Dumbledore help Voldemort to get his teenage body back? It made no sense.

"He didn't do it on purpose. It happened accidentally," Voldemort sounded very smug when he said that. Harry had a good mind to hit his enemy's head into a wall.

"How can that happen accidentally?" Harry demanded.

"Later, Harry," Voldemort did not bother to answer his question. "It is rather complicated. I will explain it to you – in time."

They had reached the _Leaky Cauldron _before Harry could ask any further. Harry had not payed much attention to where they were going during their conversation and had not been aware how close they already were to the pub.

They remained silent when they entered the pub and for the first time in his life absolutely none of the customers payed any attention to Harry.

Voldemort spoke to the innkeeper and ordered a room as well as a meal for Harry.

"Go to your room, eat and sleep. You need both, Harry," Voldemort finally said. Since Harry was not exactly a rare name it did not arise suspicion. "I will meet you here tomorrow."

Harry nodded. Then he smirked. "Have a nice evening, Tom," he replied innocently.

Voldemort scowled but he could not cause a scene about his name in this pub without uncovering their identities.

Instead he purred: "I will, Harry. Be sure of that."

When he left the _Leaky Cauldron_ Harry could hear Voldemort's voice in his head.

*Use your Occlumency, Harry, if you don't wish to share my... activities tonight.*

_Fucking bastard! _Harry thought.

* * *

The next morning, the glamor spell that Voldemort had placed on Harry had not worn off yet. Harry sat in the taproom, eating his breakfast.

He really regretted that he had not payed more attention to Snape when the greasy git had tried to teach him Occlumency. Yesterday evening he had thought that he would have one of his 'usual' dreams about Voldemort. A dream in which he killed or tortured someone. That, Harry could bear.

But what he had seen last night... Harry had had a very livid dream about Bellatrix and Voldemort. And it did not involve killing or torture. Not in the traditional way, though one could still consider it torture.

The worst aspect was that he had seen everything from Voldemort's point of view. There were some things Harry simply did not want to know. Bellatrix was absolutely the last person Harry ever wanted to fuck. Ever.

_Don't forget Umbridge, _a voice reminded him.

Harry almost gagged. He did so not want to think about this. Sexuality should be forbidden to some people. Umbridge was clearly in first place for that.

To get his mind off the dream he tried to concentrate on what Voldemort might want to show him today.

Still, he was not sure why he had agreed to this. A main reason had been to escape his relatives. The other one... he really was curious after the things he had learned about Dumbledore.

_Dumbledore. _Even the thought of the old man made Harry's blood boil. He could not yet wrap his mind around the extent of Dumbledore's betrayal. And it made Harry wonder. If Dumbledore had been able to do that, what else had he done?

It started to dawn on him that Dumbledore had to be aware of how the Dursleys treated him. And the Dursleys. When Voldemort had wanted to offer him revenge Harry had felt so intrigued. He had blocked the offer before it was even made, out of fear he might agree to something he would regret afterward.

He longed to see the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus... or Sirius. His heart ached when he thought about his demised godfather. How he missed someone he could trust. Where there was no doubt to the trust. _Is there anyone you can truly trust? _He thought of Pettigrew. His parents had put their trust in the wrong person and they had payed for it with their life.

He was afraid of what Voldemort might reveal to him. He was afraid that someone else he had relied on might turn out to be a traitor. But still he wanted to know. He needed to know the truth. The longer he put false trust in people the more their betrayal would hurt.

_I'm the only one you have._ Voldemort's words did not leave Harry's mind. What had he meant? Had he lied? Of course he had lied, after all he was Voldemort.

Harry did not like those words. He did not like them at all. If they should, against all odds, turn out to be true... Harry shuddered.

He liked it even less to remember the shudder that Voldemort's hissing in the serpent language had sent down his spine.

* * *

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

**EDITED 12/30/2009**


	4. Everyone Deserves The Truth

**Pairings: LVHP, LVBL, BLNT, GWLL, RWHG, RLFG, SSLM, BWFD, TRGW (mentioned only)**

**A/N: Harry knows that Snape overheard the prophecy when it was made. Dumbledore already told him. In canon he discovers it in HBP.**

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**Burning Desire**

**Everyone Deserves The Truth**

When Voldemort entered the _Leaky Cauldron _he spotted Harry immediately. He was sitting at a table in a corner of the taproom, eating his breakfast. Due to the glamor spell, none of the other persons present could identify him as Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Though Voldemort had not changed him too much. Harry's hair appeared longer and therefore straight, the famous scar was not visible and his emerald eyes had taken an unremarkable brown. All the same he was not recognized. Harry looked more mature like this and he appeared relaxed, as if he was enjoying that no one paid him any attention.

And he probably was enjoying it.

Voldemort slid on a chair at Harry's table.

"Did you have sweet dreams, Harry?" he asked casually.

Harry coughed fried eggs on his plate. He cleared his throat and gave Voldemort a very malicious look.

"Very," he answered sarcastically. "I actually dreamed about _you_, Tom, could you imagine that?"

Voldemort let the use of his hated name uncommented since he knew it was necessary.

"I'm flattered," he stated nonchalantly.

"You know all too well that I'm not good at Occlumency," Harry said sourly.

"Not good?" Voldemort repeated incredulously. Harry scowled. "Then practice."

"So," Harry said. "What is it that we are doing today?"

"We will meet someone," Voldemort answered.

"Whom?" Harry asked impatiently. "And _where_?"

"Here," Voldemort said. "I think she will be here soon."

"We're meeting _your _contact in the _Leaky Cauldron_? In a _pub_?" Harry asked almost mockingly.

"Am I disappointing you, Harry? And then I didn't think you got used to our usual type of meeting places. And besides we're not meeting a _contact _as you put it. She doesn't know yet she will meet us today," Voldemort added.

"How do you know she's coming, then?" Harry asked, confused at the strange information.

"Because I asked," Voldemort said in an isn't-that-obvious?-tone. "Eat your breakfast, Harry, she'll be here soon."

Harry hesitated a moment and then turned back to his breakfast. Voldemort wondered how Harry would react to the truth. Would he fall into madness and depression? Or would he turn to him? Voldemort would do everything to make it the second option.

He regarded Harry closely. The boy looked much better with longer hair... the bearer of his soul... It was the link they shared that intrigued him. He was linked with Nagini, his other living horcrux, as well, but not like he was mind-linked to Harry. Voldemort assumed that the fact that he also shared Harry's blood had taken the link to such an intense level.

He regarded the door of the pub. She would be here soon. By hindsight it was good he knew her so well. Otherwise he would not have been able to guess her secret.

When she finally entered he nudged Harry with his foot under the table.

"Call for her, Harry," he ordered.

Harry stared over his shoulder. "For _Ginny_?" he asked, thrown off guard. "What's she got to do with this?"

"Do it," Voldemort said impatiently.

"Hey, Ginny!" Harry called out, waving in her direction.

Voldemort did not turn around to look at her.

At first there was no reaction, then steps came closer.

"Harry? Is that you?" he heard Ginevra's voice ask lowly. Her voice had changed since her first year. "Who is your-"

She had come up to the table and stared at Voldemort.

He turned his head up to look at her. "Hello, Ginevra," he said and smiled sweetly at the redheaded girl.

Ginevra paled. "Tom? No, that's- You-... I thought you were... _What are you doing here_?" she finally managed to ask quite sharply.

"Ginny," Harry said. "It's okay. Please just sit down and-"

"It's not okay!" she interrupted and took a step back from Harry. "Stay out of this, will you, Harry?"

*Listen to her, Harry. She will calm down.* Voldemort told Harry through the mind link. Harry gave him a brief look, frowning, but he nodded. It was a shame that Harry had not figured out how the link worked yet.

"It's a trick, isn't it?" Ginevra asked Voldemort. She was speaking lowly now, but kept a fair distance from both of them.

"What kind of trick, little Ginny?" he asked back, still smiling lazily.

She narrowed her eyes. "You can't be Tom. You just look like him. I know who you are. And you still haven't answered my question."

"I already explained the anagram to Harry. I thought _you _might have realized it on your own," Voldemort said in a bored tone. "As to what I'm doing here... I've been waiting for you, princess."

Ginny came a step closer to them when she heard him call her the nickname he had used in the diary.

"For me?" she repeated suspiciously. "What do you want this time?"

"This time? Ginevra, let me remind you, the last time _you _wanted something from _me._ How could I have given it to you unless I left the diary?" he asked and stood up.

Ginny did not move as he came close to her and softly touch her cheek.

"I never thought that it would take my life. I thought you cared for me," Ginevra whispered. Obviously this had been bothering her more than anyone had guessed.

"You never asked me how the diary worked. You wanted me so badly that you gave me your life willingly. And I cared for you. At least I fulfilled your wish. I didn't have to do it." Voldemort told her.

"As if it wasn't pleasant for you," Ginevra said bitterly. She still had not moved away from his touch.

"It was not pleasant for me. Since it was pleasant for _you_," he explained bemusedly.

Harry suddenly understood what exactly they had been going on about. Or maybe he had seen a few of Voldemort's memories.

"You have _fucked _her?" he roared, jumping up. "She was _eleven_, you pervert, disgusting-"

"_Harry_!_ Shut up, you moron_!" Ginevra hissed. The whole pub had turned to stare at Harry. "Anybody could hear you! If my family hears of this..."

Harry looked outrageous but he dropped it for Ginevra's sake.

"I prefer the term 'taught'," Voldemort insisted innocently.

Harry glared at him in a murderous way. "What's next?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

"I do believe your date is waiting, little Ginny?" Voldemort asked Ginevra.

She stared at him. "How do you know that?" she asked.

"Her father told me," he answered.

"What did you do?" she asked with a hint of concern.

"I turned up at 2 am, said I was a friend of Luna and asked where I could meet her today." he told her.

Harry snorted. Apparently he was still angry, but upon hearing this, he laid his anger aside. "And he bought that?" Harry inquired incredulously.

"Luna probably warned him," Voldemort suggested.

"Luna warned him?" Harry repeated.

"Luna is a seer, Harry," Ginevra informed him.

Harry frowned. "Where is she now?"

"_Fortescue's,_" Ginevra said.

They left the _Leaky Cauldron_ and entered Diagon Alley.

Most of the showcases were placarded with posters of the Death Eaters. The pedestrians did not pay them much heed as they hurried up to tend to their usual business and to buy their things. Voldemort smirked as he moved unseen through the blissfully ignorant crowd. One of the photo-Bellas grinned at him as she saw him.

_Florian Fortescue's _did not have much customers that day. Most of the people in Diagon Alley simply wanted to get their business done as soon as possible. Therefor Luna Lovegood was easy to spot. Especially in her colorful attire with her radish earrings.

"Hi," she greeted them airily not at all surprised by Voldemort's presence. Not for one second did he presume she did _not _know who he was. Her huge knowing eyes glided over the three of them, lingering on Ginevra.

Voldemort watched her greedily. Luna was not just _a_ seer. She was powerful. As far as he knew her third eye was almost perfect. She was far more powerful than the incompetent fraud Trelawney.

It was possible that she was even more powerful than Cassandra.

However she had no idea how to close her mind. Everything she saw Voldemort could see as well. She cared deeply for Harry.

If Voldemort had Harry he would also get the seer.

-

Harry was beyond furious. The thought of Voldemort and ... Ginny, it was _disgusting. _Harry would have liked to take the little umbrella in Luna's ice cream and stab Voldemort with it.

How could he ever have agreed to this? Whatever they were doing. Harry found the relationship between Ginny and Voldemort disturbing, it unsettled him how they behaved towards each other. This was definitely strange and it was getting stranger every moment. What had Luna to do with this? Harry had not known that she was a seer. But Harry would have never thought that Voldemort would take notice of Ginny or Luna either. Yet obviously they were important. As angry as he was at the moment, he was also curious.

Sitting at _Fortescue's –_ an _ice cream parlor_ – with Luna, Ginny and Voldemort was surreal to an extent that was fascinating. What intrigued Harry even more was that no one payed them any attention. Since the moment Harry had entered the wizarding world everyone had stared at him and/or whispered behind his back. Now Luna's radish earrings were the only object of attention. It was like they were all normal. Average.

"So why are you here?" Ginny finally asked her two uninvited guests.

Luna took the latest issue of _the Quibbler _out of her back and started reading it upside down, like nothing interesting or special was happening around her. Harry could make out the flashy headline '_Heliopaths spotted close to Edinburgh._' on the cover.

"We are here because of Harry," Voldemort answered Ginny's question in the meantime.

"I figured that much," Ginny commented.

"What do you know about the prophecy?" Voldemort asked her.

Ginny shrugged still eying warily. "Not much. It broke at the Ministry, didn't it?"

"Yes, it broke," Voldemort confirmed indifferrently. "But what was stored at the Department of Mystery was only a recording. Someone heard it when it was made."

"Who?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Dumbledore," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"And Snape," Voldemort added thoughtfully.

"So they know what it says?" Ginny asked astonished.

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore showed me the prophecy in his Pensieve after we returned from the Ministry."

Ginny threw a look at Voldemort. Then she asked Harry: "Do you both know what it says?"

They nodded in unison.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...,_" Harry quoted.

Voldemort continued for him: "..._and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._"

"Wow. That's all very interesting... but why do you tell me that?" Ginny asked after she had listened to them carefully.

That was the question Harry was asking himself as well. He still did not know what Ginny had to do with any of this but he had the suspicion that Ginny might be able to reveal more of Dumbledore's manipulations. He suspected and feared it.

Harry turned to Voldemort to see what answer he would give.

"The prophecy is a fake, Ginevra," he explained. "Dumbledore made it up to be heard. He guessed what would happen should I become aware of it or he hoped to destroy me – either way would be a gain for him. He tried to manipulate the war by adding a new component. Now he uses the so called prophecy to form Harry into his unwaveringly loyal weapon."

Ginny stared speechlessly. "Is that true?" she asked no one in particular.

Unexpectedly Luna answered: "Yes. A real prophecy sounds different. It is much less precise. Prophecies are almost always riddles." Luna's gaze drifted off to nothing for a moment, then she added dreamily: "Centaurs are the most concrete foreboders."

Centaurs? Harry remembered Bane and his companions all too well...

"Dumbledore did that?" Ginny whispered, shocked.

Voldemort nodded. "And he did even more," he said, watching her alertly. "Why don't you tell Harry what you know, Ginevra?"

Ginny's face suddenly showed a haunted expression. "No. I can't tell him, Tom. Please don't make me tell him."

"Tell me what?" Harry demanded, suddenly fierce. A nasty feeling spread in his stomach. He hated being lied to. And he had grown to hate information being kept from him.

"Ginevra...," Voldemort insisted.

"No. I can't tell him, he's been hurt so much, if I tell him now, I... I can't," Ginny pleaded.

Luna placed a hand on Ginny's back and rubbed it softly.

"Do you want to continue lying to him, princess? I thought you always hated it, you always thought it was wrong... Everyone deserves the truth... do you really want to deny Harry that?" Voldemort persuaded her. Harry could hear the subtle taunting in his seductive, velvet voice.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny suddenly sobbed. "I'm so s-sorry..."

Harry had been prepared to be angry, not to face her tears. He gulped. Carefully he leaned over to Ginny. "What is it, Ginny? You don't need to cry. You can tell me."

Ginny violently shook her head. "You will hate me. Can't you tell him, Tom?"

Harry turned to look at Voldemort. He seemed to be so close to Ginny and yet not... This had to be confusing for Ginny who only knew him from the diary.

Voldemort looked at her impassively. "It's not me place to tell him _that._"

Luna took Ginny's hand and squeezed it lightly. "You can tell him, Gene. Tom is right, Harry deserves the truth."

Ginny had calmed down a little. She nodded. "This is going to be difficult," she moaned. "Harry, listen. It is about my family..."

Harry's insides knotted.

"... You know we don't really... have much money. And dad... he does not earn that much..." Ginny's voice trailed off and she looked away.

"Ginny...," Harry said, his voice sounding far away to his own ears.

"Harry," Ginny said, suddenly fierce. "I – I want to tell you this since... since ever, you have to believe me! But I couldn't. I couldn't turn against my own _family. _I was afraid what would happen. I was afraid that you would laugh at me and would not believe me. I was afraid to be alone." She paused. "After a few years when I was old enough to understand all consequences, I still wanted to tell you. But my time had run out. I was already guilty for remaining quiet for so long. I thought you would turn away from me, the liar. I thought my family would turn away from me, the traitor. And I would have been alone again."

"I won't turn away from you," Harry promised. Since he would not have much left either when Ginny was through with her confession, he could feel that.

*Don't be afraid, Harry.* Again Voldemort's voice in his head. How did he do that?

Harry glanced briefly at Voldemort, who regarded him intensely.

"You're a good person, Harry," Ginny said.

From the corner of his eye Harry could see Voldemort smirk and Luna hastily return to reading _the Quibbler_. It was Luna's reaction which concerned Harry. Luna never did _hastily_.

"So you see, my family was – _is_ - in a constant need for money. Dumbledore approached them and offered them money in exchange for... for...," Ginny stopped again and regarded Harry warily.

"For befriending me," Harry whispered. His voice was bare of all emotions. Inside he felt like something splintered.

Ginny nodded. Tears kept rolling down her face.

"Who? Who did he ask in particular?" Harry demanded.

"Mum and dad... and Ron," Ginny bit her lip. She looked down. "...and Hermione."

"But why... why..." Harry could not really deal with the information.

"He payed them to spy on you," Ginny whispered.

"But why did they agree? Why Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked constantly.

Ginny looked helplessly around. Luna gave her silent support.

"The whole truth, princess," Voldemort said softly. Harry did not really hear him.

Ginny took a heavy breath. "They hate it, Harry," she admitted. "To be constantly in danger... and get no attention for it... Mum freaked after she found out I opened the Chamber... She thought I had written in the diary on purpose, that I knew what would happen... To punish her... Ron is the worst... he's so jealous, Harry... you remember last year..."

Harry wanted to scream, to shout, to throw things around, but he could not move.

"But...," he started. There was nothing to finish the sentence with.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Ginny said. "I don't think the twins know anything... Percy broke up with dad since he doesn't want to have anything to do with Dumbledore. Bill and Charlie are unaware I think. Bill had a fight with mum last night... about Fleur..."

Harry did not say anything. He had never felt so _betrayed. _Not when he had found out how his father had treated Snape. Not when he had found out that Snape was the one who overheard the prophecy. Not when he had thought that Sirius had betrayed his parents. Not when he found out that it had been Pettigrew. Not even when he found out about the fake prophecy...

"Harry?" Ginny asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded mechanically.

Then he whispered: "It makes sense... it all makes sense. Ron – he was so determined to become my 'friend'... How can I possibly not have seen that?"

It took Harry a while until the full aftermath of what he had learned hit him. He was alone. His life had no sense anymore, no purpose.

Luna seemed to know what he was thinking. "We'll be there for you, you know that, Harry, don't you?" she assured him. Ginny nodded in agreement.

"I will make up for not telling you the truth, Harry," Ginny promised. "If you let me?"

Harry nodded and felt a jolt of sympathy for the two girls.

Still he did not know what to do now. Where to begin. He felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him.

"You're free now, Harry," Voldemort said seriously, the first time he commented Ginny's words. "You can do what you want with your life."

"I suppose you think this is a good thing?" Harry asked. He was appalled by the tired sound of his voice.

"Well, of course," Voldemort answered and Harry almost laughed at the honesty in his tone.

"At least the prophecy is a fake," Luna said.

Harry shrugged.

"Really Harry, _neither can live while the other survives_? That doesn't sound very appealing," Luna pointed out.

Again Luna showed the ability to state the truth like no one else could. She was right. Maybe even Voldemort was right. Harry had always been forced into his role. Now he was free of it. He could do what he wanted. The question was: what did he want?

Since his first year his thinking had been concentrated on Voldemort. Subconsciously he had always prepared for the task of killing him. And now... What had changed so much? Voldemort had still killed his parents. But he had also helped Harry. He had given him something no one had given him before: the truth. Harry still hated him, but his priorities had shifted. The world had turned from a black and white picture to a gray one. There was Dumbledore and there were the Weasleys. And Hermione. And the Dursleys. Everything had gotten a lot more complex. Voldemort had moved away from the center.

"Harry, I will tell Fred and George... I'm sure they will support you. They helped me and Luna, too. You can go to their shop whenever you feel like," Ginny offered.

"Thank you," Harry said. Then h added: "You and Luna? What do you need help for?"

"We're... we're kind of together, Harry. You see mum would not allow it, so we hide it. That's why I've been with Michael, to distract Ron...," Ginny explained, blushing now.

"Oh. Well, congrats, I think," Harry said. He had not expected that, but it was consoling to know that at least they were happy.

"Think things through. You can take your time, Harry. You have plenty of it," Voldemort told him.

Harry nodded. At least he had until 1rst September.

*That's not what I meant.* There was clearly amusement attached to that thought.

Harry frowned. Voldemort sighed. "There's more I have to tell you," he said.

"More?" Harry asked.

"Don't worry. It will only concern you... and me," Voldemort answered. "I will tell you another time. Another place."

Harry felt that their time this day was drawing to an end. They had already given and taken from him today and there was something he would ask for now. Voldemort owed him that much since it was his fault in the first place.

"I don't want to go back to the Dursleys," Harry said determinedly. At least of that, he was sure.

Ginny and Luna looked at him ashamedly. He knew that neither of them could offer him to stay with them.

"If you want you can come with me," Voldemort offered reluctantly.

Harry regarded him. That was not what he had had in mind, but... "If your parents don't mind, Tom," he said sarcastically without thinking.

"Don't worry, they're on a long holiday," Voldemort stated equivocally.

Harry cursed inwardly. Damn adumbration.

Ginny looked a little concerned at that. "Take care of you, Harry," she adjured. "Come around Fred and George's, okay? It's called _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_."

"I will," Harry promised.

"Tom... don't hurt him. That's everything I'm asking for," Ginny told Voldemort.

He did not comment her request. "You have changed a lot, Ginny," he said.

"We have all changed," Ginny replied. "Will we meet again?"

Voldemort's gaze flickered briefly to Luna. "I think so," he said. "You can tell me about Michael then, if you want to."

Ginny glared, ignoring his obvious sarcasm. "Still good at this, aren't you? I won't fall for your charm again. You still did not tell me how you are here. How you are him and Tom all the same... I thought Harry stabbed the diary?"

"Let's say it's my secret," Voldemort offered.

"If you want," Ginny shrugged.

"Have a nice summer, Harry," Luna said. Since he'd been told that Luna was a seer Harry could not get rid of the feeling that she new more than him and that there was a deeper meaning behind her every word.

"You, too, Luna," Harry said.

"Can we go?" Voldemort asked him.

"My things are still with the Dursleys," Harry reminded him.

"I know. We'll stop by," Voldemort said and offered Harry his hand.

Thinking that this was definitely the strangest summer he'd ever had, Harry took it. He was not sure what he was thinking to go with Voldemort of all people. Was it simply to contravene Dumbledore?

Harry's thoughts were violently interrupted as Voldemort disapparated with him for the second time in two days.

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**REVIEW PLEASE!!**

**EDITED 01/12/2010**


	5. Little Hangleton

**Pairings: LVHP, LVBL, BLNT, GWLL, RLFG, SSLM, RWHG, BWFD, TRGW (mentioned only)**

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**Burning Desire**

**Little Hangleton**

They apparated in the Dursleys' garden, behind the house.

"Why did you apparate in the scrub?" Harry snapped, while he tried to pull his hair free from little branches. The glamor had not survived the apparation.

"Maybe you noticed that it's bright day?" Voldemort asked.

Harry glared at him.

They both pulled free from the scrub and looked around. Apparently no one had seen them.

"Your glamor wore off," Harry told him. Previously his eyes had been blue, Riddle's original color as Harry knew, and now they were scarlet like they had already been a year ago. Now Harry realized that Voldemort must have used a disguise spell.

Voldemort shrugged. "Let's get your things, Harry."

"What about Mrs. Figg?" Harry insisted. She had told him last summer that she worked for Dumbledore.

"Fine," Voldemort gave in. He waved his wand over himself to change his appearance. And this time it was a change. His features were still the same, but his hair was short and brown, his eyes blue again and his skin – well it was not tanned but not white anymore either. He'd been wearing a simple robe now it looked like he wore blue jeans and a white t-shirt. It was certainly a strange sight. "Happy now?"

"Well, she certainly won't recognize you as a wizard now. Or as you for that matter." Harry said dryly. "What kind of charm do you use anyways? It's no transfiguration, is it?"

"No it's not," Voldemort affirmed. "A transfiguration to that extend takes a lot more time. The spell is similar to the Disillusionment Charm, just that it does not adapt you to your environment, but change what others are seeing. Unfortunately it is not as stable as a transfiguration and is broken by apparation."

Harry nodded. He knew the Disillusionment Charm since Moody had used it on him last summer.

They walked to the front of the house.

"Tom," Harry said. "Don't do anything to my relatives, I mean it."

Voldemort turned around. "Why not, Harry?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you care for them. Because I know you don't."

"No, I don't care for them. I just don't want it now. So much has happened today and I don't want to do something I might regret later on. I have to think things through. I don't want to react in a rush," Harry pointed out.

Harry truly hated the Dursleys, but he did not know if he was ready for this. And the thought of letting Voldemort kill the rest of his family as well... as much as they deserved it, Harry found the thought macabre.

"If that is what you want, Harry," Voldemort replied. "As I said before you have enough time. They won't run away."

It was late midday by now. The sun was burning from the zenith. The front lawns in Privet Drive were brown and dry. Aunt Petunia's flowers looked dead in their boxes.

Harry rang the bell.

It took a few minutes until the door was opened.

"YOU have the balls to show up again?" Vernon shouted at Harry upon spotting his nephew.

"I want to get my things," Harry said unfazed by the large man's anger. He was not going to be intimidated by his uncle. Not anymore. He had stayed here every year for Dumbledore's sake, for the blood wards, but that was no more. He had no connection to these people especially not to Vernon.

"Not in your dreams, boy," Vernon growled. He stuck his head out of the door, looked around (probably to see if any neighbors were watching), then he grabbed Harry at his over seized shirt and hauled him inside.

Vernon regarded Voldemort. It did not come to his mind that it was the same person who had visited them the last evening.

"Who did you bring this time, boy?" Vernon demanded and shook Harry.

Harry evaded his uncle's grip. He laughed. Was his uncle really _that_ dense?

"You should have your short time memory checked, uncle," Harry said smugly.

Voldemort entered the house and the disguise charm fell off, due to Dumbledore's wards. Today he looked a lot more like a wizard than he had the evening before.

"You," Vernon barked in realization. "Leave my house. Now."

"No," Voldemort simply said.

Vernon narrowed his eyes. He was not used to being disobeyed.

*Get your things, Harry.*

Harry nodded absently and jumped up the stairs.

He opened the door to his room and quickly gathered his clothes to stuff them into his trunk. From downstairs he could hear uncle Vernon's voice.

"Leave or I'll throw you out!" he was raging in a remarkable volume. "The boy stays here. That's my last word."

Harry could not hear Voldemort's reply. He grabbed his photo album from its hiding place under the loose floor board. After hesitating shortly he left all of the letters from Ron and Hermione there. Harry gave a last glance around, picked his trunk and Hedwig's cage up and left the room.

He hurried down the stairs. His wand, books and broom were locked in the cupboard. In the hall uncle Vernon glared at Voldemort, standing pranced. His face was red and his mustache trembled menacingly.

Analog Harry could feel Voldemort's anger through their mysterious bond, also he outwardly appeared calm.

"I know you can't do anything," Vernon was roaring. "You're not allowed to... to do _it_ until you're off age!"

"Too bad I was born 1926, Dursley," Voldemort sneered.

That took Vernon off guard. He just stared thinking of what to say next.

"Some of my things are still in the cupboard," Harry spoke up. He sat his trunk and the cage down and pointed at the cupboard under the stairs.

Voldemort took his wand out to open it, but Harry interrupted:

"No, they'll think I performed magic and then the Ministry will flunk me."

"So you can't use magic at all!" Vernon shouted triumphantly. "And now you" he pointed at Voldemort "leave my house and you "he pointed at Harry "go to your room. I'm fed up with this hassle!"

"Open the cupboard, Dursley," Voldemort growled.

"NO ONE GIVES ME ORDERS IN MY HOUSE!" Vernon roared.

Voldemort smiled and quickly moved around Vernon. He went over to the bureau and opened a drawer.

"What do you think you're doing?" Vernon demanded at first to stunned by the blunt reaction to completely freak out.

Voldemort's fingers moved so quickly through all the stuff in the drawer that he did every cutpurse credit. With unfailing reflexes Harry caught the key that was tossed at him.

That was too much for Vernon Dursley. He grabbed his lank nephew by the hair, pulled him up and slammed him into a wall.

"Youwillnotleavethishouse, boy!" he snapped without breathing in between.

Harry groaned. The skin on his head felt like it was set on fire.

"Why?" he shouted. "You hate me anyways! What's your problem with me leaving?"

*Harry! This is getting ridiculous!* Voldemort hissed in his head.

"The fucking old freak won't pay me anymore if you leave!" his uncle roared.

Harry saw red. "You're getting money for _this_!?" he screamed and instinctively pulled his knee up. Since Vernon held him up Harry's knee hit his face. Blood spilled from his uncle's nose.

"You ingrate, abnormal bastard!" Vernon bellowed as his face twitched in pain. He let go of Harry's hair and kicked Harry hard in the stomach as he fell to the ground. Harry curled up in pain and moaned. He blinked up to his uncle.

Voldemort had silently stepped behind Vernon. When the large man struck out to kick Harry once again, he hit Vernon's head with one of Petunia's beloved porcelain vases. The thick material fragmented and tiny porcelain splinters rained down on Harry as Vernon tumbled over. He turned half way around and slid down with his back against the wall.

Harry crawled away from his uncle who was still slightly conscious despite the blow he had received. Voldemort still held a piece of the vase which was now broken and sharp. His scarlet eyes blazed with fury and his face had gone even whiter than it already was. Before Harry could react he lashed out again and this time the broken porcelain left deep cuts in his uncle's face.

"You have no right to touch him, worthless filth!" Voldemort screamed looking quite insane. He threw the rest of the broken, bloodstained vase against the wall above Vernon. It fragmented completely. Uncle Vernon's eyes rolled back into his skull.

"Get your things, Harry," Voldemort ordered once again, his body slightly trembling with rage.

Harry nodded hastily. The key was still in his sweaty, shaking hands. It took him a moment until he was able to hit the keyhole. He quickly turned the key around and opened the door. Harry opened his trunk and bunged all his stuff in it.

As Harry closed the trunk again, Petunia entered the hall. She had probably hid in the kitchen and now came to see what had happened since the shouting had ceased. She gave a high-pitched scream as she saw her husband lying unconsciously and bleeding amongst the rest of her vase. She froze in shock, hands put over her mouth.

Harry stared a moment at her, then picked up the trunk and cage again.

Voldemort grabbed his arm. His hand was closed tightly around Harry's elbow and Harry flinched a little as he was dragged out of the house.

Harry did not dare to ask if they would hide again to disapparate. His question however was answered as he felt the doubtful sensation of apparating as soon as they had left the wards.

Well, if anybody had seen them vanish into thin air, it would give the Dursleys something to explain.

* * *

Dust dispersed as Voldemort and Harry appeared in a huge room. The furniture was capped with white sheets. Thick layers of dust covered everything. The room was lit by sunlight which flooded in through the high windows.

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

Voldemort regarded Harry. The boy looked really bad, he was slightly green in the face from his uncle's kick and stood a little shakily. Voldemort did not understand Harry's aversion to hurting his relatives and he had only restrained himself to not appall Harry. Despite the degrading confrontation with Dursley he was pleased with the entire situation. He had not expected Harry to go with him. It would be the perfect opportunity to turn Harry over. The old coot was a fool to have Harry placed with the Dursleys. The way they treated Harry made it a lot easier for Voldemort to make Harry see his point.

"In Little Hangleton," he answered Harry's question. "This is my father's house. You can stay here this summer."

Voldemort waved his wand and the dust disappeared.

"I rarely come here," he said. "But you will find everything you need. To eat you'll have to go in the village."

"I don't have any money," Harry said. "And I still got the trace on me."

"It doesn't matter, Harry," Voldemort told him. "There is no wizard registered in this area. The Ministry doesn't watch it closely. It won't stand out that an under aged wizard is here. Besides I'm sure you will be creative. Don't get caught."

"What about you?" Harry asked. "Will you stay here?"

Voldemort shook his head. "I'm a very busy person, Harry. I have things to tend to. Practice Occlumency while you are here. I will arrange for you to have enough things to shut your mind from. I will come around in the next days since there is more I need to tell you. For now rest, Harry."

Harry nodded. There was not much to say for him.

"Thanks," Harry said a little hesitatingly. He was not sure if he really meant it.

Voldemort smirked. "You're welcome."

And with that he left Harry alone.

* * *

The apparation room of Malfoy Manor appeared to be empty. It was not surprising though. Since Lucius had been imprisoned the Malfoys did not have many guests anymore.

When Voldemort arrived however one of the shadows moved. Bellatrix had known he would come back in noonday. Once she had moved he immediately spotted her.

Bella walked out in the slightly lit middle of the room.

"My Lord," she said, due to kneel down, but he grabbed her arms and made her stand erect.

"Who else is here, Bella?" Voldemort asked her.

"No one. Narcissa is in the Ministry again. She has another hearing. Draco is a staying with a friend." she answered him.

"We're all alone," she added suggestively. Stealthily she regarded Voldemort's youthful face. She had always desired him, but now... now he looked like a living statue. Perfect and amaranthine.

He laughed softly. "Not today, Bella," he said, knowing all too well what she had implied. "We have other things to do."

"What things, My Lord?" Bella asked curiously. She had not been allowed to do anything since her failure at the Department of Mysteries. She was eager to prove her worth again.

"It's time to show the world what I accomplished," Voldemort explained. "Rumors say that I became weaker, that I hide behind the Death Eaters."

"That's not true, My Lord!" Bella insisted fiercely. Who would assume that? It was ridiculous!

"No, it's not," Voldemort agreed thoughtfully. "But sometimes people need to be reminded... The Ministry will learn that I only got stronger over time."

Bella looked at him. Indeed she wondered how he had been able to restore his body.

"What will we do?" she asked excitedly, hoping that he would not correct her 'we'.

He did not. "We will attack a very public place in muggle London... Let's see how fast the Aurors and Dumbledore's petty Order can react."

"What is the aim? To cause confusion?" Bella asked. She hoped that she sounded casual. Although simple things like that were not her favorite tasks – but still very enjoyable - she was excited to be allowed on a mission once again.

Still, Voldemort seemed to know what she was thinking. He smirked. "No, Bella. The attack will merely be a maneuver to elicit them. Tonight we will give them a real fight. We will demonstrate our power."

"My Lord, who will go on that mission?" Bella asked. She was almost positive that she would be going but did not want to mouth that in case she was wrong.

Voldemort watched her closely. "I." Bella felt her cheeks warm up. He would be there? She loved to see him perform magic. Voldemort lifted Bella's chin up to make her look in his eyes.

"And some of those who have served me most faithfully. You, for once, Bella. I have not forgotten your failure but tonight you can make up for it."

"I will!" Bella promised. She had waited all summer for this. She would not ruin her chance.

"I expect nothing less of you." Voldemort said. "Rodolphus and Rabastan will come along, too. And Dolohov."

"What about Snape, My Lord?" Bella asked. She did not trust that man and wanted to see how much Voldemort really cherished him.

Voldemort shook his head. "He will have to choose his side soon, but for now I will only watch him."

"So you don't trust him!" Bella exclaimed. Her distrust had fallen on deaf ears but if Her Lord did not trust the greasy git either...

"Of course not," Voldemort replied. "He does no damage in the moment and in time his allegiance will become clear."

Bella nodded. She was not sure that Snape really did no damage, but she would not contradict Voldemort.

"If I may ask... what about the boy?" Bella inquired. Voldemort had told her about his plans for Harry Potter. It intrigued her deeply. She still hated the boy for he had ruined her life, it was his fault that she had been in Azkaban, but she would love to see him break. She would love to see him go dark. She would love to see him suffer.

"He was very cooperative," Voldemort filled her in. "More so than I thought. He agreed willingly to go with me."

"He did?" Bella was surprised. "Where is he now?" She instinctively looked around although she knew Voldemort had not brought Harry with him.

Once again he got hold of her face to stop her from staring at empty space.

"He is somewhere safe," Voldemort emphasized. It was clear he would not tell her where that was.

Being honest with Voldemort was always the better way. So Bella asked: "Can I see him someday?"

"Why do I think you don't only want to _see _him, Bella?" Voldemort said, smirking. "I will consider it. Maybe later, he is not ready for it yet. See it as a reward if you do well tonight."

"Thank you, My Lord." Bella said. It was more than she had hoped for... Still there was one thing she was curious about. "How do you plan to make him turn to you?"

"I will give him something he craves. I will give him comfort. I will show him why it's called act of _love_," Voldemort whispered and gently kissed Bella on her lips. She could not remember when she had been kissed like that the last time. It was so sweet, so innocent...

Voldemort was a talented seducer and although she knew nothing of this was for real she could not resist giving in to his game.

Or maybe that was the reason why she gave in, she almost enjoyed to play as much as he did.

* * *

The first thing Harry did after Voldemort left was to get Hedwig out of her cage. The Dursleys had not allowed him to let his owl out and she was almost in a worse state than Harry. Immediately Hedwig left the cage like the material had burnt her. Hooting happily she flew around the room. Harry went over to the large windows. The handles were a little rusty but he managed to open a window.

"There you go," he told his owl. "Enjoy the freedom."

Hedwig flew around his head once and then took off trough the window. Harry sighed. Things were not nearly as complicated for her. Harry glanced around in the room. Everything was covered in white sheets. He started to remove the sheets from the furniture. This had to be a living-room, Harry thought, since there were couches and low tables. The furniture was expensive looking, but time had worn off on it. Harry decided to give himself a tour around the house.

Apparently Voldemort had not vanquished the dust only in one room but all over the house. Harry found a large hall with a stair case, a library with old yellowed books (mostly lexicons, nonfiction, classics and other muggle books) and a kitchen. The kitchen had a rear exit. The metal door was rusty and unlocked, Harry could simply push it open.

He decided to explore the whole house before he went outside.

In the kitchen Harry found another, smaller staircase, probably made for domestics. The house seemed to be old enough for something like that. When Harry walked up the stairs he could not overcome a feeling familiarity. On the upper floor, the stair case opened into a corridor. Harry involuntary turned to the left and followed the corridor. He pushed the door at the end open.

It struck Harry where he had seen this before. He had dreamed about this place two times. In the summer before the start of his fourth year in Hogwarts. Now Harry stood exactly there where the old muggle man had stood whom he had seen die. Harry could see the same fireplace, the same armchair, the same mothy hearthrug.

Breaking from his position Harry entered the room. The atmosphere was quite different now that sunlight fell through the dirty window. Everything looked untouched like nothing had ever happened here. Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. How strange. He had never thought that he would stand in this room, all alone and just look around. But there was nothing much in that room so Harry left it again. There was no reason to stay there. Harry found a bath on the upper floor that was closer to modern standards than the rest of the house but not new either. Apart from that he found several bed rooms as well.

The beds were fusty and damp but they would do. Harry grabbed the blankets from one bed and put them over a chair to aerate. He regarded the mattress suspiciously. Who knew who had already died in that bed? But it was still better than anything Dudley had slept in.

After he'd seen everything Harry went back downstairs. He hesitated for a moment and then grabbed his invisibility cloak. Voldemort had said he should be creative? Well, being invisible would be a great advantage and he would not have to risk using magic.

Harry left the house through the rear exit. He found that the house was standing on a hill. Harry could survey the valley and a little village, probably Little Hangleton. The house was surrounded by high bushes, hedges and treas. The garden looked wild, probably because no one had done anything about it for long. The summer had not recessed Little Hangleton. The constant heat and aridity had made the grass brown and the plants lethargic just like in Surrey.

Harry walked down the driveway of the house. At the end he stepped over a low chain and ended up on a small, serpentine road. He decided to go right at first since he'd seen the village more to the right. The road was bordered by hedges which made it impossible for Harry to orientate. The sun kept burning down on Harry's neck and soon his shirt was cleaved to his skin.

The landscape around Little Hangleton was beautiful. Harry passed many meadows, pastures and groves. The smell of summer was in the air and Harry could relax for the first time in the last days. Harry felt like he was in a surreal world, cut off reality. He was completely alone here and had finally room to breathe, to come to his senses. Of course he knew that this was only temporary but Harry was tempted to give in to the illusion that he had left his problems behind.

Harry still did not know what to do. He certainly did not want to be on Dumbledore's side anymore. But he did not want to join Voldemort either. Although it would be intriguing to see how Dumbledore would react... but no, Harry was not dark, Harry could not do the things Voldemort did and Voldemort still was the murderer of his parents. That left him with no side in this war. Which was not good. Harry would have liked to talk to Remus, to find out how much the werewolf knew about Dumbledore's manipulations. But he had no clue were Remus was and Harry did not want to discuss that delicate theme in a letter.

Harry had walked quite a while until he reached the bottom of the valley. When he saw first houses he put on his invisibility cloak. That was not pleasant at all since it was really hot and the air under the cloak was warm and stifling. No matter what Voldemort had said about the Ministry paying no attention to this area he remembered his two warnings all too well. Harry did not want to risk being detected by the Ministry a third time (although it had not even been him who had done magic the first time!). He would get a few serious problems explaining his situation.

So Harry moved unseen through Little Hangleton. It was a small village with few townsfolk. Time seemed to have frozen here and Harry could not detect much of the late twentieth century's progress. It was nothing like Little Whining where the neighbors liked to show off with new cars or pools or a satellite dish that could receive up to thousand programs... Harry only saw a few people while he walked through Little Hangleton and those were mostly retirees working in there gardens or sheds.

There was one thing though that bothered Harry. Voldemort had said the house had been his father's... So apparently Tom Riddle Sr had lived here. And when he had lived here he might have also died in Little Hangleton... Harry felt a little sick at the thought of visiting the graveyard again, but a morbid curiosity drove him. He found what he was searching for on the other side of Little Hangleton.

The place looked so different at the middle of the day that Harry was not sure at first if it was the dark graveyards he kept visiting in his dreams. Like everywhere else most plants were dry and brown. Apparently people had given up on planting the graves with new flowers in this summer. There was no sign anywhere that something strange had ever happened here. But since there were not many people buried in the graveyard Harry had quickly found Tom Riddle's grave.

He knelt down and touched the grave stone. It felt hard, raw and warm under his fingers. Harry turned and looked at the place of Voldemort's 'rebirth'. There was nothing to see anymore. But Harry could still remember every detail. Suddenly Harry felt cold. He had the feeling of being watched. Although he knew it was not real he imagined movements between the grave stones. Shivering, Harry quickly left the graveyard again.

It was strange for him to come back to a place that held so important memories for him just to see there was nothing left. What had had such a great impact on Harry had been forgotten by the world like it was trivial.

On his way back Harry went to the little supermarket he had seen before. 'Thanks' to the Dursleys Harry knew how to cook and could care for himself without any problems. It bothered him to simply take the things he needed, but not as much as he would have thought. After all he had no choice. And Harry preferred not to show himself. So he just put the things he needed which was not too much under the invisibility cloak while know one was watching.

-

Voldemort did not show up for the next few days. On his second day in Little Hangleton Harry received a letter from Ron.

When Harry was sitting in the garden, distracting himself by doing his assignments for school, Ron's little owl Pig showed up. Hyperactive as ever she buzzed around Harry's head before allowing him to remove the letter. At first Harry was about to throw the letter away unopened but then he decided to read it. It would give him something to do and he was intrigued by reading Ron's words now that he knew of his 'best friend's' betrayal. So Harry opened the letter. It was dated on the third of August, three days ago.

_Hey mate, _Ron had written

_I hope you're well. How's it going with your relatives? My family is as ever. Mum had an argument with Bill today. He's offered Fleur – you remember Fleur Delacour, from Beauxbatons? - to live with him. She came around last week and mum hates her. She thinks Fleur wants to use Bill to get a good job at Gringotts – nah, whatever. There was an Order meeting two days ago. Snape was here, greasy git. They didn't tell me what's up, nothing, just like last year._

_Mum and dad wanted to invite you for the summer but Dumbledore told them no. I'm really sorry, mate. He said it's too dangerous and that there are those wards around your relatives house. It's all about protecting you from You Know Who, I think._

_Hermione will come to stay with us in the next few days. She's all about the OWLs right now, every time she writes me she asks if I already got my results. The girl needs to relax._

_There's nothing new from the wizarding world. It's really calm since You Know Who broke in the Ministry. They're still holding trials against Narcissa Malfoy. I hope she'll join her husband in prison but dad says she'll probably buy her way out._

_It'd be cool if you were here, man. I hope it's not too bad with your relatives._

_Ron_

_PS: When you're at London to buy your things you need to visit _Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, _Fred and Georges shop, it's great._

Harry stared at the letter for a moment. Then he angrily screwed the letter up. Yeah, sorry that he could not be with Ron. Harry could imagine how _very sorry _Ron was. Sure Dumbledore did not allow it. Always Dumbledore. He stayed with his relatives for his own safety. Harry had seen just how much the wards did protect him from Voldemort.

Harry snorted amused as he imagined writing an answer to Ron.

_Ron,_

_no need to be sorry, I can't stay with you this summer anyways. I'm not with my relatives anymore. After I nearly got raped to death by my uncle, Tom came around (you remember Tom from our second year?) and offered me to stay with him._

_I met Ginny yesterday and she told me a lot about you, your family and Hermione. And you know what? You can go fuck yourselves._

_Harry_

_PS: You're the second person who recommended _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes _to me. I'll definitely will pay Fred and George a visit. Besides I've promised Ginny._

But it would not be satisfying enough to write that in a letter. He wanted to see Ron's face when he confronted him. Because Harry did not have it in him in the moment to write a reply in which he acted like everything was as ever he did not respond at all. He could still pretend he had had no chance because of the Dursleys.

He spent the rest of the day out in the sun, lying in the garden or wandering around the village.

In the night when Harry went to bed he tried to clear his mind. He'd decided to take Voldemort's advice and practice Occlumency while he was at Little Hangleton. His decision had been influenced by a strange dream he had had the night before. In this dream Harry had been in the graveyard where he had laid roses on Tom Riddle's grave. Then Cedric Diggory had shown up, dressed in mourning and accused Harry of bringing about his death. This dream had been interrupted multiple times by what Harry assumed where snap shots from Voldemort's mind. They had been very short and Harry could not properly recall them. He remembered neon lights, billboards, showcases and a huge crowd. But what had happened was blurred, because of his own dream he had not received much from Voldemort.

However after that Harry had decided to practice Occlumency. When he tried to clear his mind he found that it was a lot easier now than last term. Harry supposed it had to do with the place. After being outside all day and no Snape to mind rape him, no Dursleys to pester him and no fake friends to bother him he was much more relaxed. His thoughts were not so urgent and broody. Therefore it was easier to let go.

He still did not manage to close his mind completely but Harry kept on practicing. In the days when he was not in the mood to do assignments for school he started to read books from the house's library. He found some trivial muggle fiction among the lexicons. Harry guessed those books must have belonged to a woman since they were mostly romances. But he did not mind. It was not really what Harry liked to read but it was better than brooding or reading lexicons.

Harry did not return to the graveyard once. Although he came close to it he did not enter again. He also tried to avoid the room where Voldemort had murdered the old muggle in his dream.

Although there was logically seen nothing to be afraid about both places, they made Harry uncomfortable. It was not so much the fact that there was something creepy about them – since there was not, but the fact that there was not anything special at all.

Harry did not like to admit it but the days he spent at Little Hangleton where some of the best in all his summer holidays, in fact all the time he had not been at Hogwarts. Of course he had enjoyed his time at The Burrow more but now that he knew the truth about the Weasleys he did not see his stays with them in the same light anymore.

After two days Harry decided to finally write an answer to Ron.

_Hey Ron, _Harry wrote

_too bad I can't stay with you this summer. But don't worry I'm fine. I hope your family is okay as well. Say hi to Hermione when she comes around. Dumbledore really likes to keep his information. Too bad we're not allowed in the Order. Maybe we'll see each other in London. Then you could show me your brothers' shop. _Then Harry did not know what to write anymore. Normally he would have written a really long letter to Ron, but now there was not anything he had to tell his former best friend. So he simply wrote:

_Relatives coming..._

_Harry _he scrawled like he had been in a hurry to put the letter away.

It would do. Ron knew that the Dursleys did not appreciate it when he wrote to wizard friends. He gave the letter to Hedwig.

His owl had recouped much since she had had the opportunity to fly again. Harry had no fodder for her but she could care for herself as long as she was outside.

-

Voldemort returned during his fourth day in Little Hangleton. Harry was sitting in the 'living room' as he had titled it, reading in his Charms book.

Harry jumped a little as Voldemort apparated since he had gotten used to being alone in the house. He put down his Charms book and regarded Voldemort. He looked just like he had four days ago, still his youthful self.

"Did you have a pleasant time?" Voldemort asked casually.

Harry shrugged. "It was nice to be alone for once," he answered. "I walked around a lot. Took in the countryside..."

"Really?" Voldemort said. He sat down in one of the arm chairs across from Harry.

Harry nodded. "I've been at the graveyard." He was not sure why he mentioned it.

Voldemort watched him closely. His face showed no emotion as he asked: "What did you think?"

"It was strange," Harry said. The memory felt distant now like he had not really been there. "I think I expected more. There simply was … nothing."

Voldemort kept staring at Harry but gave no reply. Harry started to feel uncomfortable.

So he said: "I take it you came here to tell me what you wanted to tell me?"

Voldemort nodded. "Yes. There are a few things you should know. First of all I wanted to explain the mind link to you. As you have noticed the link allows us to witness the activities of each other while we sleep. When both of us sleep we can see each other's dreams or memories, as I saw yours. We can feel strong emotions of the other one even when awake. This bond can be closed by Occlumency."

Harry nodded. He already knew that.

*But the bond can do much more.* Voldemort said in Harry's thoughts. *It is not just a subconscious bond. It can be deliberately opened for telepathy. This telepathy can be carried out in thoughts or images. If the link is fully opened telepathy is not limited to any geographical distances. I opened the link fully in the Ministry even though I did not intend it. Try to speak in my thoughts, Harry. It works quite different than Occlumency. You have to deliberately concentrate on the link.*

Harry tried to. _Like this?_ He thought. He did not have the impression it worked. Harry tried to concentrate on Voldemort. He remembered Snape and how he had been able to see in his teachers mind.

_Like this? Damn, this is stupid. _Harry thought. He was trying to talk in his thoughts. Good thing no one could hear him.

*Yes, like this, Harry.* he heard Voldemort's voice. It sounded slightly amused.

*It worked? Wow. … um, can this link be closed?* The idea came to Harry. What if this talking was permanent?

*Fortunately. Use Occlumency.* Voldemort told him.

"Is that why you wanted me to practice it?" Harry asked. It was easier to communicate in thoughts, but he did not want to get used to it. It was very intimate.

"Partially, yes," Voldemort said. "So now that you know how the link works the far more important question is: why does the link exist? I take it you know what a horcrux is?"

Harry tried to remember if he had heard about horcruxes in school. Nothing came to his mind. Was it something one should know? He could not remember Ron or Hermione ever mentioning it either.

"Um... no," Harry answered truthfully. "Should I?"

Voldemort did not answer his question. "So Dumbledore did not tell you. Interesting," he said.

"Dumbledore doesn't tell me anything. Besides lies," Harry commented bitterly.

Voldemort nodded. "Too true. Then listen, Harry. A horcrux is a magical artifact. The creator can hide a piece of his or her soul in this artifact. Every item can be turned into a horcrux. A horcrux serves the purpose to keep its creator alive. When the creator is killed he still survives because a piece of his soul is enclosed in the horcrux and binds him to life."

"This is why you did not die when the killing course backfired on you!" Harry exclaimed. There was no doubt that Voldemort had created a horcrux, why else would he be telling all that to Harry?

"Yes, That's right," Voldemort smiled a little. "As you see Harry the horcrux makes its creator nearly invulnerable. The creator can only be killed if the horcrux is destroyed. And there lies the problem: When a horcrux is destroyed the soul piece in it dies and the creator is left with a shattered soul.."

"But isn't the soul already shattered by the creation of a horcrux?" Harry asked.

"No." Voldemort corrected him. "It is split, not shattered. When a soul piece dies the soul is irreversibly shattered. That would leave the creator with an incomplete soul. Even if the soul is split it still remains complete. Horcruxes are extremely rare since it is very dangerous and difficult to create them. If the soul is not split correctly it can shatter. Not only in two but in thousands of pieces."

"What would happen?" Harry asked with foreboding.

"The creator would die. But that does not matter here. When I realized that one horcrux is more a danger than a use, I decided to create more than one. In fact six, so that my soul would be split in seven parts," Voldemort explained. He did not tell Harry why he had wanted seven. "The number changes the effect of the horcrux. Now, when one horcrux is destroyed, the soul piece does not die because it is hold to life by the other horcruxes. It returns to the creator and reunites with the soul piece in the creator's body."

"How can you be sure? Did someone create more than one before?" Harry asked. It sounded very theoretical to him.

"No. No one ever created more than one. Of course I was not sure, but I assumed it. You finally proved to me that I was correct, Harry. You destroyed one of my horcruxes." Voldemort looked at Harry.

"I...?" Harry said. He thought about it. "The diary? The diary was a horcrux?"

"Yes," Voldemort affirmed. "The soul piece reunited with me, when you destroyed the diary. It was quite useful at that time. The soul piece strengthened me and allowed me to have a bodily form. This summer Dumbledore destroyed another horcrux. Reuniting with another part of my soul fully restored my body. The age was influenced by the age I had when I created both the destroyed horcruxes."

"Why did Dumbledore destroy a horcrux when it's good for you?" Harry asked. It made no sense.

"He doesn't know that," Voldemort answered, gloating in his voice. "He did not bother to think about how the increased number would influence the horcruxes. He thinks destroying the horcrux would kill the soul piece."

"I don't really understand what that has to do with me," Harry said.

"I will explain it. The night I tried to kill you and the curse backfired on me, my soul was split by the curse. The fragment that is normally put in the horcrux was now free and hid in the most attracting vessel which was you, Harry." Voldemort said seriously.

"Me?" Harry asked incredulously.

Voldemort nodded. "Living beings are normally not used for horcruxes, but something alive is more appealing to a soul than a dead item. I realized you were a horcrux in the Ministry. It's because of my soul piece in you and your blood in me that we have a mind link to this extend."

Harry was horrified. "Can your soul influence me?" he asked anxiously.

"No." Voldemort said. "It cannot posses you or influence your decisions. It simply_ is _in you. But it has another effect on you. My immortal soul ties you to life, Harry. You will not age or die unless you get killed."

Voldemort waited for Harry's reaction. But Harry could not react. Tied him to life...? Like...?

"Like I'm... immortal?" Harry whispered.

"Yes," Voldemort said.

"...," Harry said nothing, he just stared at Voldemort. He would remain alive while everyone he knew died. Harry had been ready to sacrifice himself for his friends but to live forever... _Remember that they wanted to use you. They don't deserve your sacrifice. You don't have to die for them. You have already given so much why should you give your life? _Harry asked himself. But what was he living for?

He did not notice that Voldemort had moved until his fingers touched Harry's face. Harry wanted to lean away from the touch but the long fingers quickly entwined with his hair and hold him in place. Softly, but determined.

::It's a gift, Harry.:: Voldemort whispered in his ear. Harry shuddered and turned to look at Voldemort. His eyes were burning with crimson fire.

Was it? Harry asked himself when soft lips touched his.

* * *

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

**A/N: One of my reviewers pointed out that owls are night active birds. Still Harry lets Hedwig out during day. I see no problem with that since in the HP books Harry and the others send letters during daytime (maybe postowls are trained to tolerate sunlight?) and Hedwig has been locked in her cage during the holidays. In that case I think the urge to fly is stronger than her night activity.**

**EDITED 15/01/2010**


	6. Tasting The Forbidden Fruit

**A/N2: Whenever I refer to Voldemort as the seducer, it is NOT meant in biblical context! (Just wanted to make that clear.)**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Tasting the Forbidden Fruit**

_::It's a gift, Harry.:: Voldemort whispered in his ear. Harry shuddered and turned to look at Voldemort. His eyes were burning with crimson fire._

_Was it? Harry asked himself when soft lips touched his._

Voldemort felt Harry clench when he kissed him. His fingers were still tangled up in Harry's hair. Slowly he moved his left hand down Harry's back while he continued to kiss him. He moved from his lips to his cheeks, to his jaw. Voldemort did not once open his mouth nor did he touch Harry roughly. Harry was still tense but he did not move away. Voldemort slid his arm around Harry's back and softly pulled him closer. As their bodies touched he felt Harry flinch reflexively. Voldemort knew that Harry would probably not like to be touched after he got raped by his uncle. He had to be careful since he did not want to scare him off. It was hard for Voldemort to restrain himself like that. He wanted Harry so much... But he was not the heir of Slytherin for nothing. His feelings were never stronger than his willpower.

He slid both his arms around Harry and embraced him softly. He stopped kissing the boy. Instead he moved his head closer to Harry's until their cheeks touched. He did not move. He just kept sitting in this position perfectly still as if he was a statue. He could feel Harry's rips under the thin material of the shirt. He felt so unbelievably fragile.

Voldemort waited for Harry to react. He could not see Harry's face, only his soft, black hair and his sunburned neck. After a few minutes Harry relaxed and finally leaned in on him. They kept sitting like that for quite a while.

When Voldemort pulled away from Harry he briefly felt Harry's hands tighten to keep hold of him but as quickly as it came it was gone.

Voldemort regarded Harry carefully. The boy seemed to be absolutely calm, his green eyes returning his gaze.

"Have you decided, Harry? What do you want?" he asked softly.

"I want revenge from Dumbledore," Harry replied seriously. "It's all his fault in the first place. He used me. He used me as a bait and then he used me as his weapon."

When Harry said nothing more, Voldemort went on: "What else? That can't be everything."

Harry hesitated a moment. "I want answers from my so called friends. I want to hear it from them. How they could betray me like that... I gave everything for them! Who do they think they are?" Harry hissed. Then he realized whom he was talking to and broke off. "What do _you_ want from me anyways?"

"I don't want anything _from _you, Harry. I want _you_." Voldemort explained softly.

"Why me?" Harry asked stubbornly.

"Don't you see it, Harry?" Voldemort laughed softly as he pulled Harry closer again. "You carry a part of my soul. You are tied to me. I told you before that we are quite alike. I am curious."

"And I told you before that we are not." Harry said but there was no real confidence in his voice.

"I guess you were wrong, Harry." Voldemort whispered. "Did you never feel the attraction? I felt it, always, but I ignored it."

"I hated you," Harry said fiercely. Voldemort noticed the past tense Harry seemed to overhear in his own words. "You killed my parents!"

"How can you miss something you never had?" Voldemort asked him coldly. "Be honest, Harry. Think of the Weasleys, and you see how much they _love _each other. You are free Harry. You are not bound like Ginevra is."

Harry frowned. He had half opened his mouth to respond but he did not. Voldemort could feel his inner struggle. There was anger, sadness, shame... and longing. Voldemort knew he was winning.

He smiled and stood up, pulling Harry with him.

"Give in to it, Harry," he said seductively. "This is only about you and me, no one else. You can do what you want. And I know what you want."

Harry hesitated again. Then he slowly moved his hands up to touch Voldemort's face. Voldemort leaned down to the smaller boy and this time it was Harry who kissed him.

At first it was shy and cautious but then Harry grew more confident. Voldemort pulled Harry close to him and he felt Harry's fingers reflexively pull his hair as he opened his mouth. Maybe it was surprise, maybe determination but Harry opened his mouth as well.

Their tongues met as they started to kiss passionately. Harry tightened his arms around Voldemort's body and pressed himself close against it. Voldemort could feel Harry's sudden passion through their bond. It was a sensation he had never felt before, not to that extend. It only increased his own desire. Harry tasted incredibly sweet... He started to walk towards the stair case.

*Do you want a bed, Harry?* he mentally asked.

*Yes.* came the reply.

They broke apart and walked up the stairs still holding onto each other. Upstairs Harry lead Voldemort to the room he had been sleeping in. They fell on the huge double bed.

Voldemort rolled on top of Harry and started kissing him again. Harry grabbed his face and pulled him towards his. He returned all kisses passionately sliding his tongue in the older man's mouth.

They slowly started to grind on each other without one of them deliberately starting it. Voldemort could feel Harry's hardness against his thighs. He closed his eyes as their pace increased. He could hear Harry moan and feel his hands tighten around his arms. He reached for the boys jeans and started to undress him. Harry let go of his arms to help him. Impatiently they stripped each other of their clothes.

Voldemort reached out with his hand and stroke Harry's hard erection. Harry opened his eyes wide and gasped in pleasure as the hand started to massage and squeeze.

Voldemort could tell that Harry was not far from coming.

::Touch me.:: he ordered. He could feel Harry shiver at his words. They looked at each other and Harry smirked. Harry softly touched him. His fingers barely touched the skin. It was torture, unbearable. Voldemort's hand tightened hard around Harry's cock. Harry climaxed and his semen splattered over the bed. Voldemort came the moment after feeling Harry's sensation. He fell on top of Harry and remained lying there softly striking the boy's hair.

::Did you like it, Harry?:: it was a rhetorical question since Voldemort already knew the answer.

::Yes.:: Harry murmured.

::Sleep now.:: Voldemort instructed him, smiling triumphantly. He was going to win. Harry was his. For the moment. For a lifetime. Or forever. That depended.

-

Harry woke up as he felt the sun shining on his face. At first he could not remember how he had ended up in bed the last evening. He had been sitting on the couch with his charms book... and there it left him.

Lazily he glimpsed around, dazzled by the sunlight shining through the huge windows. His eyes slowly adapted to the brightness of the room.

As Harry saw who was lying in bed besides him, his memories immediately came back to him. He stared at the flawless and in sleep perfectly still face of Tom Riddle. Affright washed over him. He had … he had fucking made out with Voldemort! Was he mental or something? Harry would have liked to slap himself hard. What the hell had he thought? Harry would have liked to blame it entirely on Voldemort but he could not. He knew what was rape and what was not. He had given in. Willingly. Eagerly. Heat washed over his cheeks. Harry could not lie to himself. He _had _liked it. He had _enjoyed _it.

_Why should it be wrong? _Harry asked himself. _For whom would I restrain? There is no one... And I have no commitment towards anyone._

Commitment? Had he ever had a commitment? Even if the prophecy had been real, why had Harry always thought of it as a duty towards... what, the world? The world did not care about him, why should he care about such an unseizable factor as 'the world'?

Harry had always seen Voldemort as the origin of all his losses, his miserable life with the Dursleys, his solitude.

That had changed somewhat by now. He had realized that Dumbledore had caused most of the constant chaos in his life. Still Dumbledore had not forced Voldemort to kill his parents... but _Dumbledore _had placed him with the Dursleys. Voldemort had maybe taken happiness from him, but Harry could not know just imagine that, while Dumbledore had certifiably given him pain.

Harry began to doubt everything he had believed in before since it had been based on lies.

Even though Harry could not agree to Voldemort's agenda he had never behaved as hypocrite as Dumbledore had.

But could he really not agree to Voldemort's agenda? Harry remembered only too well when people had thought that _he_ was the heir of Slytherin. Ernie McMillan had founded his believe on the fact that Harry detested his muggle relatives. In his second year Harry had brushed that off, saying it were only his relatives he detested, that not every muggle was like them. But the more he thought about it now he could not think of anyone who that did apply for. There was his 'aunt' Marge, the worst of all, but she did not count since she was kind of a relative as well. There were Dudley's friends who were just like Dudley. There were the neighbors in Privet Drive. They had nothing on their minds besides their houses and cars and fucking front lawns. They had sucked up to the Dursleys as soon as they could get something for free. It must have been obvious to them that he had been abused and neglected, Harry realized now, since they were not blind, but had they ever done something about it? It would only have taken them one single call to the youth welfare office, but maybe they did not want to endanger the good relationships in neighborhood?

Harry realized that they were in fact all the same. Ernie and the others had stopped suspecting him when Hermione was attacked, one of his best friends, a muggleborn. Harry's mouth twitched as he thought about her now. Somehow her betrayal hurt him more than Ron's. Ron had always been the jealous type, but Hermione... That she befriended him for money surprised Harry a lot more than it did with Ron.

Ron and Hermione did actually fit each other well.

Ron was constantly striving for attention and admiration, he had always been going on about the fact he was standing in his brothers' shadows. All the same Hermione was striving for knowledge and control. Mainly control over herself by always being primed.

They would both pay for their betrayal against him. He had been blinded in his desperate need for friends. Malfoy had not been so wrong in the first year when he had said Harry should choose his friends carefully...

Harry flinched. He was agreeing to _Malfoy _now?

Well, regarding what he had done the last evening it seemed to be only a minor change.

Harry regarded Voldemort. The man appeared to be asleep, his eyes closed. What he had done to Harry... it had felt plain _wonderful_...Against all odds, against all doubts Harry knew what he wanted - whom he wanted - and he could not deny that.

In a sudden impulse he stretched out his hand to touch Voldemort's face. His skin felt cool and even under Harry's fingertips. As Harry was about to pull away Voldemort reacted in a flash. His hand came out from under the blanket and closed painfully around Harry's wrist.

Voldemort opened his eyes and looked intensely at Harry. His eyes reminded Harry of deep pools of blood. While they looked each other in the eye Harry realized they were both naked under the blanket. He looked away.

Voldemort pinned his wrist against the mattress and rolled over Harry. This attracted Harry a lot more than he would have liked.

"Can't you get enough, Harry?" Voldemort asked amused. He must have somehow felt Harry's excitement. Bloody mind link.

Voldemort started to slowly move back and forth. Harry shivered. How should he concentrate like that? He could feel his erection building up as he gasped for air.

"Join me, Harry," Voldemort hissed as he started to move faster.

Harry wanted to scream YES! YES!YES! but he could not do that. He simply could not give in like that.

"Why... should I do that?" he asked a little breathless.

"I can give you revenge. Revenge from Dumbledore and from your 'friends'," Voldemort offered him. His hand left Harry's wrist and started to move over his body. It stopped at Harry's nipples, touching, taunting, stroking. Harry moaned. "Wouldn't you like that?"

Yes he would like that... What was this about? Right, his friends.

"No, wait," Harry panted. Voldemort immediately stopped moving.

"Wait? You want me to stop?" he asked with raised eyebrows, being unbearable calm.

Harry trembled. He was so close to coming. He folded his arms around Voldemort's back and pulled the man down on him. Harry started to rub against him impatiently.

"Don't stop," he moaned.

"What is holding you back?" Voldemort asked as he took up moving again.

"I...," Harry said with closed eyes. "I don't agree with your believes..."

"Don't you, Harry?" Voldemort asked. Then he roughly grabbed Harry's hair and pulled his head back until his throat was bare.

"Don't you?" he hissed fiercely. ::You know that I'm right. We are better, we are special. Muggles, mudbloods, they don't understand our world. They don't understand magic. They don't understand its worth and beauty, regarding it only as a tool while it determines who we are. They are not any better than animals, probably worse. Impure blood infects our society, Harry. They befoul us like a disease and a disease needs to be eradicated.::

Voldemort's sensual hissing drove Harry over the edge. He came hard and remained lying on the bed all flabby. His dark seducer seemed to stay unaffected this time. He shifted into a sitting position and regarded Harry. Was he right? Harry had never tried to understand the pureblood society. He had started out with the muggleborn supporters... because Ron told him nothing but negative things about Slytherin, about Malfoy...

Harry still did not trust Voldemort and his motives. Sure, he had helped him but why? Did he want him for the war? And even if Harry had never wanted someone as much as he wanted Voldemort could he trust his enemy when he could not even trust his friends? However, the thought of the shock people would feel if they heard that he, Harry Potter, joined Voldemort turned him on. But was that reason enough to make such a important decision?

Voldemort leaned over the bed to a nightstand and retrieved a letter.

"Go and meet your 'friends' today and you will understand that I am right."Voldemort said and handed the letter over to Harry.

_Harry,_

_go to Diagon Alley today._

_Luna_

It was a remarkably short letter but after all Luna was not a friend of too many words. Harry assumed Luna had chosen today because of her seer abilities. Would Ron and Hermione be there?

"Will you come along?" Harry asked Voldemort.

"No," Voldemort said. "As tempting as it is, I can't. I may be recognized."

"Already? You just got a new body!" Harry said. He wondered what Voldemort had done in the few days they had not seen each other.

Voldemort shrugged. "You'll learn of everything soon enough."

*Besides I'm always coming along. No geographical boundaries as you know.*

*Yeah, I know.* Harry thought.

He looked at Luna's letter. What did she know? Harry felt he had to talk to her. What were her goals? What did she want to result from his visit to Diagon Alley? Harry felt as though he had to relearn everything. The persons aims seemed to be concealed once more and what had been clear to him before was now blurry again.

Normally Harry would have fully trusted Luna, especially now that she was together with Ginny. But after what he had heard about Ginny's affair with Voldemort... Then again he was the last person to blame her for _that._

After all what options did he have? Stay here and continue being in the dark or go to Diagon and find out what was up.

For Harry it was not even a choice.

* * *

REVIEW PLEASE!!

**A/N: This chapter gave me some trouble! It is a lot shorter than the last one but I wanted to update this! Next: Harry's going to Diagon Alley. Featuring: the Weasleys, Hermione, Draco**

**Okay this was my first long lime, besides a one shot I wrote on God Child. How did ya like it? Reading it made me blush and flinch... Please Review!**

**Thanks to all the lovely people who reviewed this story!! You are wonderful and you're making this extra enjoyable for me! I'd like to send you all a tablet of brownies, cookies, muffins, whatever you like...**


	7. Weasel, Mudblood, Ferret

**A/N: Here is the next chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Weasel, Mudblood, Ferret**

Voldemort had given Harry an unregistered Portkey to reach Diagon Alley because Riddle Manor was not connected with the floo network and Harry could not apparate on his own.

The portkey sent him to a back yard near the _Leaky Cauldron. _When Harry entered the pub this time he was immediately recognized. Harry hated the way the people looked at him. It was not hostile nor was it fearful but it was cautious, clearly reluctant. But that was not what angered Harry. It was the fact they looked at him with expectation. It was not anywhere near hope, it was _demanding. _They were expecting of him that he saved them, yet they themselves would do nothing to help him since they did not wish to endanger their own precious lives.

It was almost ironic that most of the people who now stared at him had more to fear from the Dark Lord than Harry himself did. In the moment he was one of those who would not be harmed by Voldemort. And they expected _him _of all people to fight for them. _Him _who had no personal reason for doing so besides a half-hearted vendetta. They expected _him _to defy Voldemort though he would never be able to, since in order to kill Voldemort he would have to kill himself first. They could as well wait for Voldemort to commit suicide, a thought that was beyond hilarious.

Once again Harry found himself tempted by the thought of joining Voldemort. It would show everyone that they had no right to expect anything from him, to determine his life. That Harry had chosen for himself.

No one had seen him like Voldemort had seen him, as Harry. Even if Voldemort did not care for him (what was anything but unrealistic, despite what he had said) Harry was still a person to him, not just a title. Not the-Boy-Who-Lived, or the Chosen One or the Golden Boy. Simply Harry Potter. Not even Ginny had seen him like that. Sure, she had seen him as Harry as well but she saw a blurred picture of him, still a frightened boy, alone and desperate. But Harry was not like that. Through manifold losses he had learned to go on, not to dwell on the past. Only Voldemort had seen the person he could be, had seen Harry's deeper desires and wishes, things others were blind to because they only saw what they wanted to see. Voldemort had not seen Harry as the victim all the time. Maybe he did see him as a price or a prey or a potential ally but not as a victim.

And Harry was seriously tired of always being the victim.

He quickly passed through the pub without paying the whispering, staring bystanders attention. They could go to hell, he did not care. He did not even see them as different persons, they were one faceless, blurry mass. He wondered when he had stopped seeing them as individual beings. Maybe during his fourth year.

*Generally everyone is born as an individual, Harry. But most people do not appreciate that fact. They prefer blurring into the mass, rather being mediocre and remaining unseen than standing out. They throw their individuality away in order to fit in. They are weak.*

Harry sighed. Why the hell was Voldemort watching him?

*Don't you have anything to do? Conquer the wizarding world or something?* he asked a little sourly.

*Who says I'm doing nothing? It is not like this would somehow divide my attention. Unlike less intelligent beings I'm fully capable of occupying my mind with more than one issue. Besides, stop being hypocrite, Harry. You know you cannot lie to me, especially not through this link. I felt your joy at hearing my voice.* Harry could feel Voldemort's smugness at the last words.

*Believe what you want, Tom.* Harry thought. Was there a word for insane, megalomaniac arrogance? Well, if yes, it certainly applied to Voldemort.

Harry could briefly feel Voldemort's anger at being called his birth name but it was quickly gone.

*Do I really have to teach you my name, Harry?* Voldemort's tone was sweet and silky and it made Harry shiver. Yet, he did understand the meaning of the words. His eyes flickered to his left hand, reminding him of how he had been tought not to tell lies.

Harry felt amusement from Voldemort. *Not in that way.* he heard the purring voice in his head, leaving little doubt to what way was meant.

Harry shivered again. Pleasantly. Bloody hell, why did it turn him on so much to think of Voldemort fucking him?

Harry tried to get his mind of this thoughts as he entered Diagon Alley. Nothing had changed since his last visit days ago, besides the fact that a new poster had been added to the ones of the Death Eaters. The person on it was blurry, like the images in a Foe-Glass. Harry guessed that it had to be kind of a magical identikit picture. Although the picture held only little resemblance to Voldemort it was quite obvious that it should show him. The picture was very indifferent, it could have shown any dark haired male. Voldemort would never be recognized on basis of this picture even if he stood right next to it. Only his eye color would be a dead giveaway.

Harry assumed that no one had gotten a close, detailed look on Voldemort's youthful body up to now, not to speak of a photography.

The pedestrians tried to look anywhere but at Voldemort's idenitkit picture or at Harry. Like they were afraid to be caught in the middle of the conflict.

At first Harry went to Gringotts to retrieve some money from his vault. He had gotten his Hogwarts letter a while ago and there was no apparent reason why he should not buy the things needed for sixth year. In the moment Harry had no concrete plan of action so it was likely that he would return to Hogwarts for now. Furthermore if he met Ron and Hermione, something he was highly expecting, he wanted all options available to him. Including playing along with their fake friendship. If he really should decide to join Voldemort... well Harry did not want to spoil the surprise for his two 'dear friends'.

Harry smirked as he thought of Ron's self righteous dislike for homosexuals. Harry had never told Ron that he was not interested in girls. During last school-year Harry had tried to get attracted to Cho Chang because he had been somehow ashamed of his preference of boys. Unbeknown to the redhead, Ron had had an unfailing talent for making Harry feel bad about his homosexuality.

It would be more than satisfying to let Ron know of his ...involvement.

_You're getting way too used to the thought of joining Voldemort,_ Harry chided himself.

Looking down at the list of school supplies he needed, Harry decided to go to _Weasleys Wizard Wheezes_ before he bought his things.

Harry did not know where exactly the shop was so he walked along Diagon Alley, carefully watching out for the shop. It proved that Harry would not have needed to be watchful at all. It was impossible to walk past _Weasleys Wizard Wheezes_ without noticing it.

The showcase was filled with the most different products that could be bought at the shop. All of them moved, blinked, spun or bounced around. Harry already got giddy by just looking at them.

Blinking, Harry entered the shop. And gaped. If he had thought Diagon Alley was rather empty today, the reason was that all the people must have been at _Weasleys Wizard Wheezes._ The shop was full of people, Harry could not even hope to get a look at the racks and products.

"Psht, Harry," he heard a female voice behind him. He turned around and saw Ginny close to the entrance. He must have walked past her, not seeing her in the crowd.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry greeted her and walked over to her.

She smiled at him, still a little sadly though. "It's good you came. Although I knew you'd. Luna told me." Ginny said.

"Why should I come today, Ginny?" Harry asked her.

"Family's here," Ginny explained. "In the moment they're buying the books and stuff. So you'll have a little time before you meet them. Don't ask me what will happen today or in the aftermaths of this, Lune refused to tell me."

Harry smiled at the use of this nickname. But he was a bit worried about the Weasleys' presence. He still had to decide on what to do. Play along or not?

"How are you and Luna?" Harry asked Ginny, changing the topic.

"Oh, great. Lune is such a wonderful person," Ginny beamed. "But it's still a secret. Mum would so freak if she knew I was a lesbian... But I get by. How are you, Harry? How were the past few days?"

She asked very politely and Harry knew she would have dropped it if he refused to talk about it. Nonetheless he could tell she was curious.

"I'm fine, Ginny, don't you worry about me. Past few days were very relaxing. I've been alone most of the time, out in the sunshine...," he told her. Unwillingly his thoughts returned to the last evening and this morning.

Maybe Ginny had noticed a little nervousness in his gaze, however she asked very lowly:

"How did you get along... um, with Tom?"

Harry felt himself blush a little. He said lamely: "Yeah, it was ...um... okay, I guess."

Ginny frowned. "Okay?" she repeated, suspicious of his odd behavior.

Harry's cheeks reddened a bit more. "Maybe better than okay," he admitted, mentally smacking himself. What a crap answer!

*I guess you just slipped up.* Harry flinched at Voldemort's voice.

Ginny's face suddenly took an expression of realization and resignation the same time. "Oh, Harry," she said simply. It was not sympathizing nor was scolding. It was acceptance for what he had done.

"Ginny...," Harry started in order to tell her she had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

She shook her head. "Spare your breathe, Harry. It's not like I hadn't expected this. I won't bring it up. Just promise to be careful."

"Sure I'll be careful...," Harry said without promising anything.

"Come now, Harry, let's go see Fred and George. There is still some time left until family returns," Ginny said and lead Harry through the store. Ginny shoved through the masses of customers until they had reached the backmost part of the shop. There she opened a door that read _personnel only._

The room behind it had to be a storage room where Fred and George kept their products. There were racks full of cardboard boxes and also a desk for paper work. Harry remembered that Fred and George had planned on doing direct mail selling as well.

In this room they found Fred and George. Both were dressed in magenta robes which clashed with their red hair. They were busy collecting different joke articles from the racks.

"Hey, guys," Ginny exclaimed. "Harry's here."

Both of the twins turned around and stopped their actions.

"Harry," Fred greeted him.

"It's good to see you," George added like they had had no contact for several years now.

"Hi," Harry said. The twins peered at him.

"Ginny told us about what our lovely family did," Fred said.

George nodded. "Really Harry, we had no idea."

"I believe you," Harry said. "You have nothing to do with their decisions."

"Ah, don't worry too much, Harry," George said in order to lighten up the serious mood.

Fred winked. "They shouldn't bother you. You're fortunate that _you _aren't related to them."

"Besides you still have Ginny," George said encouragingly.

"Oh, and us," Fred added as if it had just come to his mind.

"That's right," George agreed. "We don't have any desire to stick with our dear parents."

"If it was only that mum tried to keep us from opening this shop," Fred mused.

"But it's the way our parents – and Ron for that matter - are treating Ginny that we can't stand," George continued.

Harry nodded. "Thank you. I really appreciate that," he said.

"Nah, that's understood," Fred replied.

But Harry knew that it was not. He had learned that nothing came for free. Therefore he felt really thankful towards the twins and Ginny. Maybe these were people who he could trust, who would understand his choice.

_I haven't chosen yet, _Harry reminded himself.

"Enough of that," George said. "Did you show Harry around, little sister?"

Ginny shook her head. "It's way too full to show someone around," she said. "Besides I think Hermione and Ron will be here soon."

"Ah, well, maybe later then," George said.

"We could show Harry our Defense Against the Dark Arts section," Fred proposed.

"Too true, brother," George agreed. He snatched a large purple hat with a yellow feather out of one of the cardboard boxes and held it out for Harry to see.

"What do you think?" Fred asked as if he had just presented the solution to world hunger.

"The ministry placed a mass order of these," George added. They grinned at Harry.

Harry stared at the hat. What was the Ministry going to do with that?

"Um...," he stuttered.

George sighed dramatically. "He doesn't understand it."

"Youth of today," Fred muttered.

"Put it on, young Harry, and you will see," George said solemnly.

He gave the hat to Harry. Harry suspiciously put it on. He would not be surprised if it was a prank. Harry could not imagine the ministry ordering purple hats.

As the hat touched Harry's head a shield erupted around him like a _Protego_ charm.

"A shield hat," the twins exclaimed in unison.

"You can't imagine how many ministry employees can't do a proper shield charm," Fred said.

"First we made this for fun, but people soon began to want more, you know, to protect their families." George explained.

"And then the ministry heard of it," Fred added.

"Wow," Harry said. It was certainly not easy to make a _Protego _charm stick to a hat. "Do you sell more stuff like this?"

"Yup," George said proudly.

"Shield cloaks, Instant Darkness Powder, Decoy Detonators just to name a few...,"Fred told Harry.

"It was just experimental at the beginning, but it sells really good," George added.

In this moment the door opened again.

"Harry!" someone yelled. It was Hermione. Harry quickly put the hat down. She flung her arms around him. Harry felt a strong urge to push her away.

*Play along, Harry.* Voldemort advised him.

*Why?*

*Do it. I'll explain.*

"Let go of him, Mione," Harry heard Ron's voice. "He'll choke."

Hermione pulled away from Harry.

"Oh, Harry! We didn't know you were coming today." she said.

"Hey, mate," Ron greeted him and waved.

"Hi," Harry said. It would not do any harm to follow Voldemort's advice, would it? "I would have told you, but you know, my relatives..."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "How were they this summer?"

"Actually, better than usually," Harry lied smoothly. "They just did not want me to write to anyone. You know how they dislike magic and I think they're still angry because you ruined the living-room two years ago..."

Ron grinned, a little embarrassed at the memory.

"But that's good, Harry," Hermione said approvingly. Harry would have liked to punch her.

"I'm sorry you couldn't come to visit us, mate," Ron assured him again.

"I understand. If Dumbledore thinks it's the best when I stay with my aunt and uncle...," Harry told him.

He could see Ginny frown from the corner of his eye. Maybe she had expected him to confront Ron and Hermione?

"I'll go and look for Luna, she said she'd be coming today," Ginny said and took off.

Fred and George exchanged a glance.

"As much as we'd like to stay...," Fred said.

"...we have customers to look after," George finished. With that the twins left as well.

"Have you already got your grades?" Hermione asked him eagerly.

Ron rolled his eyes at the question. Hermione glared at him.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I actually know them for a while now."

"And?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Um... I'm not so sure, it's been some time now, I got an E in Charms, Potions, Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures and an O in Defense. I failed at Divination and History of Magic." Harry answered.

"That are good grades! If you ignore Divination and History," Hermione said.

Ron shook his head. "She got an O in every subject besides Defense," he let Harry know. "And now she's really depressed..."

Hermione punched him in his arm. "I'm not _depressed_, Ronald."

"Hey, okay, okay, forget what I said," Ron yelped. He turned to Harry. "How did you get to London, mate?"

"My aunt and uncle had to go to London today and they took me with them," Harry explained.

"Oh," Hermione said. "We wondered if you would come to London at all. Not that we aren't glad you came."

Harry frowned. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Haven't you heard what happened five days ago?" Hermione asked surprised.

"No," Harry said. "I haven't got the Daily Prophet." He tried to look worried at what Hermione may say.

"Wait, I have kept the article," Hermione said and searched her bag for it. When she found it she gave it to Harry.

Harry looked at it. There was a huge photography of Ministry people running around, obliviating muggles. Harry could tell that the photo had been taken in London. The heading and subtitle of the article read:

_Death Eaters attack Piccadilly Circus_

_Attack on a public place in muggle London. The Ministry is still doing mass obliviations in order to maintain secrecy._

Harry pretended to be all shocked and stared at Ron and Hermione before he continued reading the article. It reported about the attack and following fight between Ministry, Order of the Phoenix and Death Eaters. Harry frowned. Apparently some Ministry agents Harry did not know had died and the Auror Nymphadora Tonks had been captured... The article also reported that Voldemort apparently looked different... There were speculations on whether he had used a Polyjuice Potion or not.

When Harry had finished reading he looked up at Ron and Hermione.

"It's terrible," Hermione said gravely. "I'm so sorry for Tonks..."

Harry nodded. "I didn't know that happened," he said.

"Have you read what it says about You Know Who looking like a teenager?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Maybe it was Polyjuice Potion," Harry speculated. Ron looked uncertain.

"Um, Harry, I thought maybe you had dreamed about that...," Hermione said.

Well, Harry remembered having a strange, incomplete dream. But his Occlumency had blocked most of it out.

"I hadn't any dreams about Voldemort this summer. I practiced a lot of Occlumency in the holidays," Harry informed them.

"Really?" Hermione's eyes lit up. "I knew you'd learn it eventually!"

Harry wondered why Hermione was so obsessed with him learning Occlumency. What did she gain from that? Or was she trying to persuade him for Dumbledore?

*Probably. Dumbledore fears that the link opens fully and we can communicate like this.* Voldemort's voice appeared in Harry's thoughts once more. *Occlumency would have prevented that from happen if I hadn't opened the link.*

"I saw that you were right about it, Hermione," Harry shook his head in fake remorse. "If I had learned it right away, Sirius would not have died..."

Harry really wondered. Was Sirius' death his fault? If he had learned Occlumency properly...

*Voldemort?*

*Mhhm?*

*If I had been able to use Occlumency would you have still been able to send me the dream about Sirius?*

*Yes, Harry. No matter how much you learned, my Legilimency would still have been stronger. It was not your fault that Sirius Black died. If he had not turned to Dumbledore...*

*It was _not his fault_ that that bitch murdered him!* Harry thought viciously.

*It's a shame that you think so badly of Bella. She's a very enjoyable person. In many ways.*

Harry did not want to comment that. Images from his dream about Bella and Voldemort came to his mind. They gave Harry a funny feeling.

Voldemort noticed. *You are jealous, Harry? There is no need to be...*

Then, a very vivid picture came to his mind. It showed three persons... and one of them was Harry.

*Get out of my mind, pervert!* Harry interrupted the pictures Voldemort was sending him.

Harry felt amusement before the connection faded. The entire conversation had only taken seconds.

Ron who had not noticed anything was saying: "It was not your fault Harry. If Snape had been teaching you correctly you could have learned it. Maybe he opened your mind for You Know Who."

"Ron, we already had that discussion. If Dumbledore trusts Snape we can trust him, too," Hermione chided.

Ron shrugged. He was not convinced of that. Harry could barely keep from glaring. They gave a shit about Sirius' death. Suddenly an idea came to his mind. It would be interesting to know how they would react.

"From time to time I wonder if it's worth continuing to fight...," he said in a broken voice.

Ron stared at him dumbfounded. _Stupid idiot._ Harry thought. Hermione seemed shocked.

"Harry you can't possibly think that! That's what Voldemort wants! He wants you to be desperate and stop fighting!" she exclaimed.

For what did she want him to fight? For him? Or for them? Probably the latter.

"Mione is right, Harry," Ron supported her. "Really mate, don't get depressed. Everything will turn out fine."

Everything will turn out fine. Don't worry yourself, Harry. Really, was Ron that stupid or simply uncreative? Sometimes Harry wondered how Hermione could stand him.

He had enough of this charade. It was ridiculous. Harry despised them both. They thought they could play? Act? Lie to him? Well he could do that, too, and he would do it a lot better than them.

"Yes, you're right. It was just a thought. Really, I don't know what I would do without your support," Harry smiled weakly at them.

"That's the right attitude, man," Ron said and patted his shoulder.

"Do you still have to get your things, Harry?" Hermione suddenly asked, changing the topic.

"Yeah, I came here first to see the shop. It's great," Harry said, smiling a little more confident now, though not too joyful.

Ron and Hermione nodded.

"I think I'll go get the school stuff now," Harry said.

"Oh, we already have ours but if you want us to accompany you...," Hermione offered.

"No, it's okay, Hermione. It will only be boring and maybe you'd like some time without the family," he gave Ron a meaningful glance.

Hermione frowned, a little irritated. She was really all in books, but unaware of everything else. Ron however got the hint.

"If that's what you want, mate," he quickly said. "Hermione, Harry's grown up, he doesn't need a nanny."

"You'll come by before you leave again, won't you Harry?" Hermione asked.

Der, had he to? "Of course, Hermione," Harry said casually before he left the storage room.

Harry quickly made his shopping. He did not buy a potions book since Snape took no one in his NEWT course who had not an O in Potions.

As Harry went to _Flourish & Blotts_ he ran into another acquaintance. His most favorite rival Draco Malfoy.

-

Draco Malfoy was at _Flourish & Blotts _when he saw Potter enter the store. Draco despised Potter. Now more than ever before. His light attitude, his self righteous behavior. Poor Potter, always the victim. Draco hated how everybody pitied and favored Potter.

And now Potter had caused his father's imprisonment in Azkaban. Soon, Draco would join the Dark Lord. And he would get revenge.

When he walked over to Potter he noticed that Potter was alone.

"See, see, Harry Potter without his loyal lackeys," Draco jeered. "Did you finally get rid of the weasel and the mudblood?"

Draco had not expected Potters reaction. His pale face suddenly showed a dark twist.

"Fortunately yes," Potter said lowly. "But what about you Malfoy? Did Crabbe and Goyle get lost? You should be happy then, I'm sure they're even worse than weasel and the mudblood. No wait, I take that back. At least they don't talk as much."

Malfoy gaped at Potter. He would have never thought that such words would leave the Golden Boy's mouth. Then again he would have never thought to see such a dark smirk on the Golden Boy's face either.

"Did someone hit you with the _Imperius_, Potter?" Draco asked.

"If that was the case, I would not be able to tell you, but no. If I remember correctly you warned me in our first year to choose my friends carefully. I gave your warning a thought or two. Now if you don't mind I would like to buy my books." Potter said, still smirking in that odd way.

Draco remained standing still as Potter vanished between the racks. This should be impossible. It sounded almost like Potter... well, maybe not turned but became a lot more reasonable.

For the first time Draco had noticed that Potter's eyes resembled the color of the killing curse. In fact Draco had never seen anyone with such an intensive, unnatural eye color. Besides the Dark Lord. Draco shuddered.

Then he frowned. It was Potter he was thinking about! Had he just compared him to the Dark Lord? Draco almost started to believe he had only imagined talking to Potter.

He would not be left behind in such a confused state! He was a Malfoy after all. So Draco decided to go after Potter.

He found him when Potter collected his last book.

Draco stepped close to Potter and whispered to him: "But that would leave you with no side in this war."

Potter looked at Draco, certainly smirking now, like he was enjoying himself immensely.

"Who said it would leave me with no side?" Potter purred very unlike himself. With that he turned and walked off.

Was Potter simply playing him? But that was something Potter would not do. Had he really turned? That would change... many things. Draco was not stupid and he knew that this information was valuable. He would guard Potter's secret. Draco was deep in thought when he left the shop. The next school year was definitely going to be interesting.

-

"Will we see each other again before the start of the next term?" Hermione asked. Harry had returned to them to say goodbye.

"I don't think so," Harry said in a crestfallen tone. "There will not be an opportunity."

Hermione nodded. "Are you sure you can't stay a little longer, mate?" Ron asked him.

Harry sighed. "No, I'm really sorry, but I can't let my aunt and uncle wait. I told them I'd meet up with them at 4 pm. I really have to go."

"I'm glad that your relationship to them got better," Hermione said, smiling. There was something strange in her tone like she was doubting what he had said.

"Me, too," Harry replied with a happy smile. "It looks like they're finally accepting the whole magic issue. I'm really glad, after all they're my only family..."

"That's good for you, mate," Ron said.

They both looked happy for him, but was Hermione frowning slightly?

*Could you look into her mind for me? Is it possible through the link?* Harry asked Voldemort. Damn his decision to ignore him for the rest of the day.

*Sure. It won't be as precise, but still...* Voldemort's voice echoed. Then suddenly, images flooded through Harry's mind. Hermione's thoughts. It was a little difficult to sort out the relevant ones, but it was not impossible.

And it hit Harry. They knew it! At least Hermione! She knew what Vernon did to him... and she dared to tell him she was glad for him...

Harry's senses snapped.

He smiled sweetly. "I'll miss you both," he could hear himself say to his 'friends'.

In his mind he could already see the walls painted in their blood. He could feel Voldemort's triumph wash over him.

Harry had decided.

* * *

**A/N: How did you like that? I had the feeling that this passage wrote itself. All I had to do was type the letters. Finally Harry falls into the darkness, mwhahaha... review please!**

**Thanks to all the ones who reviewed the last chapter!**

**EDITED 01/19/10**


	8. Allegiances

**A/N: I think the ending of the last chapter was a bit like the ending of Twilight. (You know where one did not know if Edward had bitten her or not?) It was not quite clear what exactly Harry meant by 'I'll miss you.' So yeah, Ron and Hermione are still alive. I see it could have been understood differently. (Not that I'm comparing this story to Twilight here. XD)**

**Warning: This chapter is rated NC-17 for graphic sex. Anal, SM**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Allegiances**

Harry returned to Little Hangleton with another portkey. Both items Voldemort had given him previously had not been difficult to carry around, for Voldemort had used a piece of parchment and a quill as portkeys.

Harry had parted with Ron and Hermione on best terms, making them promise to write to him and emphasizing that he looked forward to seeing them again at Hogwarts. Honestly, his performance had been perfect.

Harry had not expected any company in Riddle Manor too soon so he was surprised that he was not alone when he appeared in the house.

"I do believe you have truly been sorted into the wrong house, Harry," he heard Voldemort's velvet voice behind him.

Before Harry could turn around he felt two arms wrap around him from behind. Although it was not tight Harry could feel the possessiveness in the embrace, he could feel that he would not be allowed to step back now. Others might have found that disturbing or constricting but Harry did not mind. In fact he liked it. It made him feel like he belonged somewhere. It made him feel wanted. What no one had ever understood was that he simply wanted to be accepted. He did not want glory or fame or influence like he had been accused of. Harry had longed for someone who loved him, who cared for him or who just accepted him because that was what he had never had. The Dursleys had always shown him that he was unwanted in their family. And now he knew that his 'friends' did not want him either. They simply stood him because they were getting payed. Aversion or anger, with that Harry could cope more than well. It was their hypocrisy that made his blood boil.

Harry was well aware that Voldemort did nothing even close to love him, Harry knew him far too well to assume that he could love anyone ( besides himself ). He also knew that Voldemort probably only cared for him because Harry carried one of his valuable soul pieces. But there was no doubt to the fact that he wanted Harry. And it was the first time that he was truly wanted not for money or fame but for himself. And this was everything Harry had ever wanted. He wondered briefly what he would see now if he would looked into the Mirror of Erised.

Harry turned around in the embrace.

"I think so," he said.

Voldemort smiled. "Your decision, Harry?" he asked.

Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement. It was a rhetorical question since they both already knew the answer.

"I've decided to join you," Harry said yet seriously. He smirked. "To serve you."

The triumph Harry had felt through their bond before was now absolutely showing on Voldemort's face. His pale cheeks were almost glowing white as he eyed Harry greedily.

Harry had not truly realized what room he was in until he was pushed onto the bed.

As Voldemort held him down, Harry kissed his former enemy greedily. He slid his tongue in the other one's mouth and sucked in his taste. Harry moaned softly. This felt so good...

He could immediately tell that Voldemort wasn't holding himself back like the last time when he had seemed so very unaffected but that he craved this as much as Harry himself did. Harry gasped in pain as Voldemort suddenly bit him hard in his tongue. Harry instinctively leaned back but Voldemort just bent down with him until Harry was pressed against the mattress. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth but instead of making him sick it strangely stimulated him and made him feel dizzy. Voldemort tauntingly licked the spot where he had bitten Harry and sucked the blood in, his black hair falling down on Harry's face. With a sudden forceful push Harry shoved Voldemort away from him and rolled over so that he was on top this time. He had not expected Voldemort's reaction. Instead of doing something he just relaxed and put his hands behind his head.

::And what now, Harry?:: he asked. While he posed the question he once more disposed of all their clothes.

Harry was startled for a moment by their sudden nudity and Voldemort's seductive voice. He stared at the other man's face whose lips where red from Harry's blood matching the color of his deep crimson eyes...

Voldemort slowly sat up. "Turn around, Harry," he ordered.

Hesitantly Harry turned his back to Voldemort. He knew what would follow. But although he was a little reluctant he wanted this. He wanted to be taken and he could barely wait for it. Voldemort slid his arm around Harry holding him close. They were both kneeling on the bed. Harry could not help but gasp in surprise as Voldemort slowly entered him with one of his long, smooth fingers. For Harry this was something new, his uncle had always come to terms immediately. Harry pushed away. He did not and he would not think about that just now. Slowly another finger joined the first and began to scissor. It was actually very pleasant thought Harry. Then the fingers were removed and Voldemort really entered him from behind in one forceful push.

::Yes:: he hissed, his voice sounding triumphantly.

::Do you want this?::Voldemort asked as he started to move back and forth in a fast pace.

::Yes, I want this::breathed Harry. ::I want you.::

::You are mine:: Voldemort whispered, his arm tightening almost painfully around Harry's chest. ::Forever.::

::Forever:: repeated Harry. He could hear his own heavy breathing and closed his eyes. He almost did not notice the slight aching as Voldemort moved inside him. Never had Harry felt so much pleasure.

Slowly, teasingly Voldemort's left hand moved towards Harry's cock. Harry moaned loudly as Voldemort's fingers closed hard around his cock and then started to stroke and tease. They moved closer and closer to the cusp. Harry gasped and he could hear Voldemort laugh softly. As his fingertips continued to move and stroke, Harry climaxed, his semen splattering over the bed and Voldemort's hand. Voldemort removed his hand and touched Harry's face, stroking cheeks and lips.

::Open your mouth::he said.

As soon as Harry parted his lips he slid his fingers into Harry's mouth and Harry greedily licked his own semen. Harry smirked and following a sudden impulse, he bit Voldemort's finger hard enough to draw blood. He heard Voldemort hiss but he did not withdraw his finger. Harry tasted the thick blood. It was like the sweetest wine. Then with a last forceful push Voldemort came inside him. They both moaned and let go of each other.

Harry turned around and fell back on the mattress. Voldemort remained kneeling. Slowly he moved closer to Harry and gently straddled his legs.

::I want more:: moaned Harry.

Voldemort only smirked and climbed over Harry's legs before he sat down on top of him. Again he started to move but this time the sensation was another one for Harry. Harry had always just been taken, never had he taken someone else himself. He began to take up the motion. They moved fast and rough and Harry was sure he would be sore the next morning. Voldemort moaned and this time his hands grabbed his own cock. Harry stared thrusting his hips upwards. Tom Riddle masturbating _while _they were fucking was by far the hottest thing he had ever seen.

::Tom:: Harry moaned his name in a thoughtless moment.

Voldemort immediately let go of himself, his eyes flashing with anger.

He bent down a little and touched Harry's naked chest with both hands. A scream escaped from Harry's lips as pain cursed through his body. It was only brief and much less hurtful than the _cruciatus_ curse but strong enough to make him scream.

::I told you not to call me that:: Voldemort hissed furiously.

Harry gasped for breath. Whatever Voldemort had done – wandless nonetheless – had made all his muscles cramp. Although painful it had done very interesting (and arousing) things to his erection.

::Can you do that again?:: he asked.

The expression of fury on Voldemort's face was replaced by one of interest. A wicked smile graced his lips as he touched Harry once more and this time the pain was even somewhat stronger. Harry arched his back as his muscles contracted and thrust upwards. In that moment the pain ebbed away and they both climaxed.

Breaking apart they both fell on the bed besides each other. Voldemort's fingertips ghosted over Harry's chest.

::I had not thought that you would like pain so much:: he said.

Harry smirked. ::I will take it only from you:: he answered.

::Will you give me the Dark Mark?:: he asked after a while.

::No:: Voldemort told him. ::It would be too dangerous when you are in Hogwarts.::

::So you want me to go back?:: Harry inquired.

::We will talk later about that:: Voldemort repeated. ::Sleep now, Harry.::

He got up from the bed. With a flick of his wand he cleaned them both and reached for his clothes. Harry even felt his tongue stop bleeding. He watched Voldemort dressing. There was no shame between them, no reluctance. They had nothing to hide, at least not Harry. When he was dressed Voldemort returned his attention to Harry. Again Harry could see the possessiveness in his eyes.

::Sleep now:: Voldemort repeated and disapparated.

-

"Wotcher, Harry."

Harry groaned as a pillow hit his face. He shifted and pushed the pillow aside. As he rubbed his eyes he reached for his glasses with his other hand. Harry put them on and blinked. Everything was very blurry. Someone was sitting-cross legged on the other side of the bed. Harry put his glasses aside again since the cloudy view was making him dizzy. Momentarily his sight became sharp. He gaped at the young woman with short lilac hair who was casually sitting on the bed, grinning.

"Tonks?" Harry asked, confused and still a bit sleepy. "What are you doing here?"

Suddenly Harry remembered the article Hermione had shown him one day ago. It had said that the Auror Nymphadora Tonks had been captured by Death Eaters during the fight at Piccadilly Circus.

Harry frowned. She grinned wider.

"Well, right now I was waking you up, because you've already slept long enough," Tonks answered. "Come on, Harry, it's time you get your lazy bum out of the bed."

She grabbed his wrists to pull him up. "Hey, wait I-" Harry started, but gasped as she had moved him into a sitting position. His ass hurt like hell! Not that he had not expected that. Quickly he wrapped the blanket around his hips and jumped up from the bed. "I've nothing on," he finished dryly what he had wanted to say before.

Tonks raised her eyebrows at his sudden eagerness to stand up. "That was the enthusiasm I was looking for." She regarded his bare chest. "No offense, Harry, but you look like shit." she said cheery.

"None taken," Harry sighed as he looked down at himself. He knew she was absolutely right. His skin was still bruised from weeks of abuse although the bruises were becoming yellow and did not look as bad anymore as they had when he had received them. Besides he was still far too thin for someone his age and height.

"You have to eat something," Tonks decided. "I have brought you some food. Just put something on and come outside."

She had gotten up from the bed and was going towards the door when Harry called her back still holding the blanket.

"Tonks," he exclaimed. She turned around. "How comes that I can see so well without my glasses?" he asked.

"I corrected your sight while you were sleeping. It took some time," she shrugged like it was nothing.

Harry swallowed. How could he have slept through that? "Thanks. A lot," he said in serious tones.

Tonks shrugged again. "It's nothing, Harry. But you should know that I was asked to do it. Not that I didn't want to do it," she answered and left.

Harry shook his head. He did not entirely understand this situation but he was used to surprises. Quickly he put some of his clothes on which he picked carelessly from his trunk. He could very well imagine who had 'asked' Tonks to do that. The question was had she really done it willingly or had she been forced to do it? He strongly suspected that she had done it willingly since she had shown no since of discomfort, aversion or anger so far. But the best way to answer that question was to simply ask Tonks.

He hurried downstairs and followed Tonks outside. He was not sure why she had wanted to go outside instead of staying in the house but he did not really care. Her lilac hair glittered in the sunlight and he could have sworn that it was just a little darker and longer than a minute ago. Harry sat down in the grass next to her. The sun had barely risen and Harry suspected that it still had to be very early in the morning. But he was not tired at all. He wondered how long he had slept. If he remembered correctly it had been early evening when he had fallen asleep. That would leave him with 12 or even 13 hours of dreamless sleep. He was not sure when he had last slept that long uninterrupted.

Tonks grabbed a croissant from a bag and handed it over to him.

"Eat, Harry," she said.

He did so without protest, not having realized how hungry he was until now. Tonks simply watched him eat and said nothing. When he was finished she handed him over more and he ate that as well.

When he was truly finished both of them said nothing at first. Harry did not really know what to make of the situation.

"I thought you were an Auror?" he finally started.

Tonks smiled. "I _am _an Auror," she corrected him. "That's my job."

Harry nodded dismissively. "But your allegiance is not with the ministry," he said.

"That's right," she agreed. "But yours isn't either, or is it, Harry?"

"No it's not," Harry confirmed. "But..."

"You want to know why, don't you?"

He nodded.

"I could ask you the same question," she said.

Harry nodded again. "It's somewhat complicated," he answered evasively.

Tonks smiled knowingly. "It seems like everything about you is a little complicated," she said.

Harry gave her a sour look that she only answered with a chuckle.

"So what about you? Are you a Death Eater?" Harry asked her bluntly.

Tonks winked. She pulled up her left sleeve. Harry could see the Dark Mark tattooed on the pale skin of her left forearm.

Harry gaped at her incredulously. "Isn't that a bit... obvious?" he asked.

"I don't know, is it?" Tonks nonchalantly asked back as the Mark paled and faded away.

Of course. Tonks was a metamorphmagus. If someone could hide the Dark Mark it was her.

"Metamorphmagic is undetectable," she explained.

Harry frowned. "I didn't think of that. Then again there is still the question: why? Will you answer it?"

Tonks sighed. "I know who feared my talent and who appreciated it, Harry," she answered seriously. "I know who regarded me with mistrust and caution. Who whispered about me being different, being dangerous. And I know who didn't."

Harry nodded slowly. He could understand how she felt. "I didn't know you were having problems."

She shrugged. "You were having enough problems yourself." She titled her head and added: "And you still have."

Harry sighed again. She was right. The war had barely begun and his involvement in it had not decreased. Instead it had even increased if that was possible.

"The _Daily Prophet _said something of you having been abducted," Harry told her.

Tonks grinned. "That's right. As you correctly pointed out before I am an Auror. During the fight at Piccadilly Circus I was unfortunately captured by Death Eaters. It was the best way I could disappear without arising suspicion."

"But you were in a top position in the ministry to collect information. Why should you want to disappear?" Harry asked.

"What about you let me tell it?" Tonks inquired.

Harry nodded. He had not meant to interrupt her.

"You see, Harry, what you said right now isn't quite right," she went on. "I was almost only working with the Order in the past few month not with the other Aurors. And Dumbledore trusts Snape a lot more than he trusts me. My value as a spy therefore only comes second. The Dark Lord decided that I would be way more useful round here. You may be advanced for your age, Harry, but to fight a real battle you know awfully few spells which are useful in a war. On contrary I am a fully trained Auror. I think you can figure the rest of it."

Harry nodded. "You are going to teach me," he said.

"He thought it would be easier for you if someone you have – let's say a rather good – relationship to, teaches you. That reminds me: Didn't you learn Occlumency with Snape last year?" Tonks asked.

Harry flinched. "Dumbledore made me."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Really, I don't know what Dumbledore is planning. Did he mean to teach you anything? What does he think how you should survive?"

Harry said nothing. He had already asked himself the same question countless times. He had asked himself after the night in the graveyard and after Sirius' death. By now he saw things differently. _If Dumbledore wants me to survive,_ Harry thought. He doubted that. In this moment it was stunningly clear that Voldemort cared more for Harry than Dumbledore did. It should have been disturbing for Harry but instead it somehow gave him strength and made his decision even more final.

Tonks' face had taken a thoughtful expression. All the while her hair slowly changed to a bright pink. That caught Harry's attention and he stopped brooding about Dumbledore.

"How much does the Order know?" Harry asked Tonks.

"About what?" she wanted to know.

"About everything. About Dumbledore's plans," Harry precised.

Tonks' expression darkened. "Almost nothing. They rely on the thought that he will protect them and simply follow his lead. Dumbledore on the other hand fears betrayal from most of the members. Or at last he doesn't trust them enough to tell them about his plans. Sometimes I think Snape is the only one he really _trusts._"

Harry nodded. He had expected something like that. Dumbledore had told _him _only then about the prophecy when he could not avoid it any longer. Then again Snape's name. The greasy teacher seemed to be one of the most important persons in this war.

"On whose side is Snape truly?" Harry asked curiously.

He remembered his first year when he had thought that Snape wanted to kill him and steal the philosopher's stone for Voldemort. Harry had been proved wrong. He also remembered his third year when Snape had protected him from Sirius although that had not been necessary. He remembered that Snape had wanted Sirius to receive the Dementor's Kiss although he had to know that Sirius had not betrayed Harry's parents.

Tonks shrugged. "I have no idea. Sometimes I think Snape himself doesn't know that either. He collects information for both sides. Dumbledore trusts him fully. The Dark Lord doesn't trust him as much. Maybe Snape waits until it becomes clear what side is going to win until he chooses his allegiance. Maybe he mainly wants to survive. But I don't think so. I think there's something more. A motive behind his actions. Maybe Lucius knows what it is."

At least that had not changed. Snape's motives stayed as shady as ever. _Maybe he mainly wants to survive. _Should that be the case Harry could not really blame Snape for it, although he still despised the man.

He frowned. "Why should Lucius of all people know that?" he asked. Sure, Snape liked Draco but Lucius was not Snape's only acquaintance.

Tonks smiled secretively. "Soon you will come to learn more about the people you formerly regarded as your enemies," she said. "But I'm not in the position to tell you."

Harry nodded. He respected that since he had always hated other people gossiping about him. He decided to return to his original subject.

"So what about the Death Eaters? How much does Voldemort tell them about his plans?" he asked.

Tonks gave him an odd look for saying Voldemort's name. But she answered his question nonetheless. "The Dark Lord tells us what we need to know. He tells us what concerns us and asks for our opinion on certain things. But that's not too often. Usually he thinks of the best solution anyways. He tells us nothing about things he's not sure of himself. And of personal issues. But that's not our business anyways."

Harry nodded. It was not the way he had imagined it before, but now it did not surprise him anymore. In retrospect it made perfectly sense since the Death Eaters had always seemed to be better organized that the Order.

"For example only very few know about you, Harry," Tonks said.

"And who would that be?" Harry asked.

Tonks hesitated for a moment. "The Dark Lord, obviously, and me... and Bella."

Harry hissed furiously. "Why her?" he asked.

"Hey, _I _didn't tell her," Tonks reminded him. "Besides, she isn't that bad..."

"She killed Sirius," Harry insisted coldly.

Tonks looked like she had a lot to say to that but she knew that it was a very delicate theme for Harry.

*Why did you tell that bitch?* Harry asked Voldemort.

*What bitch?* came the response. *Nymphadora?*

*****No, not Tonks.***** Harry thought impatiently. *Bellatrix.*

*It is my business what I tell her and what not.* answered Voldemort coldly.

*Very touching.* Harry thought sourly.

*Ah, Harry, is that envy I hear?* Voldemort asked smugly.

*No, it's not!* Harry thought furiously. *I simply hate her.* Oddly Harry remembered the pictures of the menage à trois Voldemort had sent him in Diagon Alley.

*Such a bad liar.* Voldemort commented. *However, that doesn't change anything. Bellatrix is my most loyal follower and since you agreed to serve me you will have to deal with her – sooner or later.*

Harry broke the connection. Whatever. He still was furious. And certainly _not _jealous!

"You can discuss that with Bella," Tonks was saying. Harry's talk with Voldemort had only taken seconds.

"I've no intention to," he told her coolly.

"If that's what you want," Tonks said. "But I'm not here to have a nice chat with you. Let's go inside and you show me what you already have learned."

Harry stood up and followed her inside, interested in what she would teach him, leaving the uncomfortable theme of Bellatrix Lestrange behind.

-

Tonks had a very special way of teaching. When she showed Harry new spells and curses, she never expected him to succeed on the first try. Not because she thought that he was not able to learn so fast but because she remembered – unlike many teachers – that it had been difficult for her as well when she first had learned the spell. Therefore she was not giving him much pressure but that was not resulting from a lack of ambition. On contrary, Tonks was very eager. If he did not manage to cast a spell correctly she made him try until it worked no matter how long that took.

They always practiced inside the house for two reasons. First, of course, so they would not be seen. Secondly, Tonks had told Harry that Voldemort had put up wards around the house which made magic undetectable for the ministry.

Tonks taught him many basic spells which would be useful in a fight against a more experienced enemy. Furthermore she helped him with transfiguration and basic disguising charms. The most difficult thing Tonks taught him was apparation. She explained to Harry how it theoretically worked – concentration on the destination and the correct turn. Then she asked him to apparate a short distance through the room. Harry tried until he was exhausted and sick from turning around all the time. When he first succeeded after countless tries he apparated about one meter too far and crashed into one of the bookshelves. Groaning he got up from the floor. He was frustrated with the whole apparation issue but Tonks assured him that he was learning very fast.

Sometimes they came across a spell Tonks could not cast correctly herself. Then she winked at him and said: "Don't tell anyone, Harry. Anyways, that's a rather useless spell, you'll get by perfectly without it."

Harry had started to wonder if Tonks was an insomniac. When he went to bed in the evening, completely exhausted from practicing the whole day, he fell asleep momentarily. Tonks however seemed to be doing lots of things while Harry was sleeping. Everyday she woke him early – at least earlier than he liked – and during the night she had often brought food or books or clothes for herself.

In the first days Tonks insisted on cooking their meals but Harry had quickly complimented her out of the kitchen – whereas the taste of her meals could have been an argument as well.

Living with Tonks proved to be very uncomplicated and they got along well. Tonks did not behave any different than when Harry had seen her at Grimmauld Place last year. She had apparently not faked too much for the Order. Harry also noticed that she wore many muggle clothes but that might be because she still had them from being an Auror (who mostly disguised themselves correctly in muggle public). Pink actually seemed to be her favorite color. Harry thought that a little odd, it did not really fit to being a Death Eater. When he had casually asked her for it – thinking mainly of Narcissa Malfoy as a contrast – she had only snapped that there was no one who could make her wear 'some fucking dress'.

During the time Harry had been alone with Tonks – about one week – he had received a letter from Ron and Hermione.

_Dear Harry, _Ron had written

_how are you? We are very sorry that you can't be here with us, mate, but Dumbledore says you have to stay with your relatives. We wish it would be otherwise but it's the best for you like this. _(Harry had the strong feeling that Hermione had formulated that sentence.) _We're having great holidays and hope you get along with your aunt and uncle. Fleur is still here to everyone's distress. She is really terrible and she's harassing everyone. Mum wants to kick her out and keeps telling Bill to distance himself from her, but he only starts to yell every time about that it's his own life and that our parents are trying to control him. They had a great argument yesterday and Bill and Fleur left. But it's not only Bill – did you know that Ginny is together with Dean Thomas now? He is just using her, I never liked him, he's not good for her. But Ginny doesn't listen to me and Hermione just tells me to leave Ginny be. (As well you should_, Harry thought.) _There's nothing new from the Order or nothing they'd tell us. They still haven't any news about Tonks, everyone is really worried. The ministry is no help either. Maybe you have read it in the _Prophet, _Narcissa Malfoy has won her trial. She's been declared unaware and innocent of her husbands action. Dad said it's all a charade everyone knows she's with You Know Who. But the Malfoys simply buy their way out of it – as always._

_Take care, Harry, and write to us soon,_

_missing you, Ron and Hermione_

Although Harry would have liked to vomit over the letter he wrote a long answer in which he included some stories about the Dursleys, advised Ron carefully not to be too protective of Ginny and expressed his concern for Tonks and anger towards Narcissa's sentence.

Harry also received a letter from Luna. She had only written down one sentence: _Listen before you __judge, Harry._

He was not quite sure what to make of that but he decided to keep it in mind.

Another two days passed which he spent in Tonks' company until Voldemort contacted him. As Harry was lying in bed, once more exhausted from the day he heard Voldemort's voice in his mind.

*How did your training go so far, Harry?*

Hearing his voice made Harry less sleepy momentarily. *Good.* he answered. *Tonks is a good teacher.*

There was a little pause. *Yes, she is a very talented witch.* agreed Voldemort.

*I thought she would teach me the unforgivable curses, but she didn't.* Harry mused. It was more a thought to himself. He had expected that Voldemort would want him to learn them and deep down he was more than just a little curious for them.

*Are you so eager to learn them?* Voldemort asked, a tone of sarcasm in his voice.

*I just wondered.* Harry explained, ignoring the question.

*You will learn them, but not from Nymphadora.* Voldemort told him.

*Why not from her?* Harry asked.

*She has learned them when she became an Auror, but she has never really _used_ them. That makes her inexperienced.* Voldemort explained.

Harry had no idea how the Aurors learned those curses but he suspected that it was similar to casting a _patronus_ charm without a dementor present.

*So who will teach me? You?* Harry asked curiously.

He felt slight amusement from Voldemort but his answer showed none of it. *No. I don't have much time. I will come around to see you tomorrow and explain the further things to you. It is pointless to discuss this today. I wanted to talk about something else to you now.*

Harry yawned. *Has it to be now? I'm tired to the death.*

*It has to be now.* Voldemort insisted unimpressed.

*Well then.* Harry thought. *What will happen next? Should I go back to Hogwarts?*

*Absolutely.* Voldemort confirmed. *I'm not yet ready to go to war and up to then you have to pretend to be loyal to Dumbledore. He must not realize that you are a horcrux or at least not that you are aware of it. Therefore it is important that you practice Occlumency so that Dumbledore can't see into your mind. You have to pretend that nothing happened. No one must suspect anything, neither Dumbledore nor your 'friends'.* He felt Harry's distress at those words. *Can you do that?* he asked.

Harry saw the necessity although he did not like it. *Yes, I can do it. But I wish I could reveal my real allegiance to them.* He smirked at the thought of how they would react.

*Patience, Harry.* Voldemort whispered into his mind. *They will know that you are mine. Your body and your soul. And they will pay dearly for what they have done. Dumbledore will pay for the fourteen years he took from me.*

With the last dark promise the connection broke. The hatred that washed over Harry was so strong that he was carried away by it although it was not entirely his own. It left him sitting on the bed, shivering and wide awake.

* * *

REVIEW PLEASE!!

**A/N: Wow, finally the update! Did you like it? I almost feel sorry for good, ol' Dumbles (well almost). For those of you who don't know, a menage à trois is a threesome. It's french.**

**Thanks for all the reviews I got to the last chapter!! You're all great!**

**Want to take a guess who'll be Harry's teacher? Imaginary cookies (hey, at least they have no calories!!) to everyone who guesses right!!**

**EDITED 01/19/10**


	9. Challenges

**A/N: The next chpater in which you find out about Harry's oh so mysterious teacher!**

**Warning: This chapter is rated M for graphic torture.**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Challenges**

The wards Voldemort had put up around the manor only made magic undetectable for the ministry, they did not inhibit apparation in and out. Which was unnecessary anyways for no one would think of going there.

Voldemort and Bella apparated in the hall of the manor. He could sense Bella's excitement although she was trying very hard to hide it. Voldemort knew that if someone could teach Harry Potter the unforgivable curses it was Bellatrix, only she would be able to drive him far enough. He would just have to watch out that Harry did not come to serious harm during her teachings. Azkaban had not increased Bella's patience.

Nymphadora Tonks had advised him against choosing Bella as Harry's teacher and told him of Harry's furious reaction when she had mentioned Bellatrix. But that did not matter. Harry would have to learn to get along with Bella and the other way round. The moment for that could as well be now.

Besides he needed Bella to check how much the boy's Occlumency had improved. He could not test it himself since their link opened Harry's mind farther to him than to anyone else, including Dumbledore. Bellatrix was the most skilled Occlumens among the Death Eaters besides Snape. And he did not trust Snape enough to reveal his relationship with Harry to him, especially not when Snape was so close to Dumbledore. And Voldemort could not risk Dumbledore finding out that his precious weapon was not willing to play the weapon anymore and that Harry knew about himself being a horcrux. There was a possibility that Dumbledore already knew that Harry was a horcrux. If that was the case Dumbledore obviously was not in a rush to inform Harry. What was Dumbledore playing at? Did he want to tell the boy that he had to sacrifice himself in the end? Voldemort would not be surprised, it sounded exactly like the kind of thing Dumbledore would do. He had no doubts, should Dumbledore find out about Harry's secret he would immediately kill the boy. But Voldemort would not let that happen.

He already had lost two horcruxes and although that had been beneficial in the end, he did not want to loose a third one, especially not one as entertaining as Harry... Harry Potter fascinated him. Of course he was special because he carried one of Voldemort's soul pieces which gave him the rare gift of speaking Parsletongue. But it was although his innocence that intrigued Voldemort. An innocence he was going to taint until it was completely gone. And he would not miss any opportunity to let Dumbledore know that. Harry Potter was his prize, his trophy and his possession and he would decide what to do with him. Voldemort truly enjoyed the thought that the one person Dumbledore's order had put their faith and hopes in, they believed destined to destroy him, had given himself willingly to him. Instead of trying to defeat Voldemort, Harry was turned on by being hurt by him, being possessed and dominated. This was Voldemort's real victory. And it would be so much sweeter when not only two persons were aware of it.

They found Harry and Nymphadora upstairs. Voldemort could already hear Nymphadora's voice as they were climbing the stairs.

"Not that I would need it," she was saying and laughed.

Voldemort entered the room they were in, Bella close behind him. Nymphadora and Harry turned around at the sudden interruption. They were both hard to see since they resembled the color of the wallpaper and curtains behind them. Obviously they had been practicing the disillusionment charm.

As Nymphadora saw them she waved her wand at Harry to break the charm before she morphed back herself.

"Good evening, my Lord," she said, bowing to him and winked at Bella. "Aunt."

Voldemort nodded in greeting, his attention focused on Bella who had slowly moved around him.

"Harry Potter," she drooled. "Apparently you're not as innocent as I thought."

Harry glared at her but he did not grace her with an answer. Voldemort noticed that he was not wearing his glasses, which made him look a surprisingly great deal better. Harry turned to him.

"She?" he asked, unconsciously stopping to speak English. ::She is going to teach me? Why her of all people?::

Voldemort saw Bella and her niece watch Harry with curiosity and fascination. They had never heard anyone speak Parsletongue besides himself and that only in Bella's case.

::Because Bella is sweated best to teach you.:: he answered coldly. ::You can finish your business with her today but she _will _teach you and she will also help you to perfect your Occlumency.::

Harry stared at him. Voldemort could feel fury and aversion radiating off Harry. ::What!?:: he hissed. ::That's worse than Snape!::

Voldemort smirked. It did not matter how much or how furiously Harry complained. He would get his way. He always did. ::My decision is final.:: he said.

Harry opened his mouth but Bella spoke up before he could say anything.

"Is there a problem, Harry?" she asked innocently although she had not understood one word they had spoken. Nymphadora suddenly seemed to find the floor very interesting.

Harry turned to Bella, redirecting his anger at her. "A problem?" he spat. "You killed Sirius!"

Bella laughed. "So self righteous, little Harry?" she snarled. "You dare to judge me?"

"Yeah, indeed," he answered.

Bella narrowed her eyes, then she shrugged. "I don't need your forgiveness," she said dismissively.

That only agitated Harry more. His hand shot to his wand but Bella was faster and before he could do anything she had disarmed him.

"Such a bad duelist, Potter," she sneered, her eyes flashing with anger. "Shall I show you how it works?"

"Bella," Voldemort interrupted her in bored tones. "Don't hurt him."

Harry glanced briefly at him, then back at Bella. His envy - although he had denied it, Voldemort knew it was there – was rather amusing. Bella still looked angry but she did not do anything.

"You hated him anyways," Harry said bitterly, his aggression drained away.

Bella suddenly folded her arms over her chest. "Believe what you want," she said coldly.

Harry scowled at her. "Well, what else, you killed him," he asked almost sarcastically, but Voldemort could feel confusion from him.

"So you noticed that?" Bella jeered. "Then maybe you noticed that I did not use the killing curse."

"You blasted him through the veil. That's the same," Harry insisted.

"And you knew how the veil worked, what it did, didn't you Potter?" she shouted. "Why do you think it's called the Department of _Mysteries_?"

As Harry said nothing, Bella went on: "Is it my fault that my damned cousin decided to join Dumbledore's rotten Order? Not even _you _want to be with them anymore! He made his decision and I made mine. That's how life works. Learn to cope with that." Harry still said nothing, he only continued to glare.

"I will teach you what you need to know," Bella finally said. "But you better be good."

Now Harry looked up. "Maybe better than you'll like," he purred.

"I'm looking forward to _that_," Bella repeated.

"Good," Voldemort said. "You can go now, Bella." Bella glanced at Harry a last time, then she bowed and disapparated.

"That went rather well, didn't it?" Nymphadora asked no one in particular.

Harry threw a sour look at her. "We shall see," Voldemort said. ::Follow Bella's instructions, Harry, and you will learn fast.::

Harry nodded. ::Will you stay here tonight?:: he suddenly added. Voldemort could feel the desire behind those words. His gaze glided over Harry's body and stopped at his eyes which were of the same green as the killing curse. Voldemort wanted Harry just as much as Harry wanted him.

::No, not tonight.:: he said. ::Soon.::

Harry nodded again. Voldemort touched his chin and lifted his head up so that they were looking each other in the eyes. ::Remember, you belong to me.:: he hissed. ::I will allow no one else to touch you.:: The boy's pleasure at his words was unmistakable.

He leaned down as if he wanted to kiss Harry and millimeters before their lips touched, he vanished.

* * *

_His breath was going heavily and his feet hurt from running. With narrowed eyes Harry stared in the darkness of the surreal landscape. Sparse light shone down on the waste, dead hills. He could almost feel the breath of his pursuers in his neck. He had to run faster or they would get him. His muscles protested as he tried to increase the speed of his flight. Suddenly he lost his balance and painfully hit the hard ground. He turned around to see what he had fallen over but he could not spot anything. He picked himself up to continue his run but now Harry was not sure anymore: from which direction had he come? Where were his pursuers? If he chose the wrong direction he would run straight into their arms. But he could not stay here either. Harry turned around in rising panic, trying to see something in the dark twilight..._

_He was standing in a well lit, huge room with parquet floor. It was warm there and he only remembered dimly where he had been before. He looked around and realized that he had to be inside the Ministry of Magic. Then he noticed that he was not alone. Had the woman been there with him all the time or had he been alone before?_

"_You killed Sirius!" he screamed and she began to laugh like a maniac. He hated her, he wanted to hurt her. And as he searched for his wand she stopped laughing._

_Harry froze and suddenly he felt uncontrollable, cold fear as he saw the calculating expression on her face._

"_That's a lie. You. You killed him. It's all your fault," she breathed. "Your fault."_

"_No!" he shouted back but she did not hear him. Only his own echo answered him, the long "noooooo" sounding like sneering laughter._

_And whatever had frozen him before, it made him want to run away now, but he could not, someone was holding him back._

"_It's not my fault!" Harry almost sobbed one more time while he tried to break free, but the arms which were holding him only got tighter the more he struggled._

"_It doesn't matter," Harry thought that he knew that voice but he was not sure. "There is no good and there is no evil. There is only power and those who are to weak to seek it. Are you weak?"_

_This question made Harry stop to struggle and now he did not know anymore why he had wanted to run away before. He realized that whoever was holding him wasn't _holding _but _embracing _him. He thought about the question. Was he weak? He wanted to answer but he could not concentrate enough to speak. Instead he turned around to see who was standing behind him. Was it a man? The face seemed so familiar but while he looked at it the dark hair got longer and the features more feminine. The woman stared at him from beneath her heavy lashes._

_Suddenly he remembered who it was. "Bella?" he asked weakly. He could barely keep his eyes open._

_But the moment he had said her name she dissipated and with her the whole room. He was alone again in the twilight world and an icy wind tore at his clothes. His head shot around, someone or something was watching him..._

Harry shot up in the bed. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. His body was covered in sweat and his shorts and blanket were plastered against his skin. Exhausted he stood up and walked over to the window. It was still completely dark outside but he needed some fresh air. Harry opened the window wide, and let the night breeze in. The cool air felt good on his hot, sweaty face.

He thought about his dream. There was no doubt that it was mainly a product of his own imagination, although it had briefly resembled his confrontation with Bellatrix at the ministry.

_It's your fault._ Bella had said in his dream. Harry slowly sunk down to the floor, his back leaning against the wall beneath the window. He thought once again about Sirius' death. It was true Bella had not used the killing curse. Harry himself had not even assumed that Sirius might have died as he had fallen through the veil. He had not expected it in the slightest. In retrospect it seemed more like an accident.

Harry frowned. It was hard not to blame Bellatrix. But what about himself? He had instinctively felt guilty because he had brought them all to the ministry. Because he had not practiced Occlumency. He had believed Kreacher. He had fallen for Voldemort's trick. Voldemort had started it. He had sent Harry the dream that finally lured him to the ministry. Because Voldemort had wanted to hear a prophecy that was not even true. That was Dumbledore's lie.

And after Harry realized that Sirius was not in the ministry he had instead of going back to Hogwarts tried to protect the prophecy. He had also wanted to hear it. So who was guilty? All of them? Or no one?

_There is no good. There is no evil. _Harry remembered Voldemort's words. He started to agree to them. Good and evil seemed to be mostly depending on the perspective.

_There is only power and those who are too weak to seek it._ Again Harry asked himself: am I weak? He had been the victim for all his life, the suffering hero. He did not want that anymore.

_I am not weak. _He belatedly answered the question from his dream.

His thoughts returned to Bellatrix. Voldemort had asked him if he was envious and although he had not admitted that it was true. He was tired of being ignored. Harry knew it was pointless to try and manipulate Voldemort so he would have to do something about Bella. Harry would think of something... when he was not... so... tired...

* * *

Tonks found Harry sleeping on the floor. What had he been doing? He was sitting beneath the opened window his back leaning against the wall. His head was sunken on his chest and all in all the whole position he was in looked very uncomfortable. Giving him an amused glance she threw herself on the bed which made an unhealthy noise. It was not like she was heavy, she rather suspected that the bed had already seen better days and was far older than Harry and herself together. But still, it was soft.

"What's the bed done to you that you prefer the floor, Harry?" Tonks asked loudly.

As she had expected Harry was woken up by her voice. He groaned and lifted his head. First he looked a bit confused and only then he seemed to realize that he was sitting on the floor when he spotted her on the bed. Still sleepy he picked himself up and and groaned again. His hand shot to his probably stiff back.

Tonks grinned. "Bad night?" She asked. She was sure Harry had not intended to sleep on the floor.

"I had a strange dream," he said, had a stretch and yawned.

"And that made you sleep on the floor?" Tonks mocked him. Although her words had been said lightly she watched his reaction closely. She could very well imagine that he had had a disturbing dream after his conversation with Bella last night. She still did not like the idea of Bella teaching Harry but she had to admit that their confrontation could have been worse.

"I needed some air to think," Harry explained as he put on jeans and a shirt.

Tonks nodded. Reluctantly she touched his arm.

"I know this sounds stupid and I know you don't want to talk about it," she offered a little apologetic, "but if you should change your mind..."

Harry smiled. "...I can always talk to you," he finished for her. "Thanks, Tonks. But it's okay. Really."

He hesitated. "How do _you _feel?" he asked. Although he had not said it she knew what he meant.

Tonks sighed. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she answered. "I liked Sirius a lot. It was hard not to like him. But it's like Bella said, we made our decisions." She hesitated. "I know that it sounds cruel but what happened was unfortunate. Bella did not mean for him to die. They fought. It just happened. Sirius knew the risk. I'm sorry." she ended.

Tonks knew she was not good at this but Harry seemed to understand her.

He nodded and said: "I know."

They both smiled, a little sadly maybe. Tonks felt like she had to say something more but she could not think of anything solacing so she changed the topic.

"I just wanted to tell you I was against Bella teaching you...," she started but Harry interrupted her.

"I'll get by." Then he added: "Is she here yet?"

"Nope," Tonks shook her head. It was a good sign that he had accepted the situation. "I came here to give you a... sneak preview on your lessons." That was not quite right but he would see what she meant.

Harry frowned but looked interested. "A preview?" he asked.

Tonks nodded eagerly. It would be better if he was prepared.

"Come." she said. "I'll show you."

She went downstairs and Harry followed behind. In the library – Harry called it _living-room, _she called it library since there were way too many books for a living-room – a rather young woman was lying on a couch, asleep.

"Who is that?" Harry asked, but Tonks could see in his eyes that he already knew the answer.

"I don't know," she responded. "But you didn't think you were going to practice the unforgivable curses on _me_?"

"I haven't really thought about that," Harry admitted. The expression on his face was hard to read. He was certainly startled and a little uncomfortable but also determined.

Tonks looked at the woman. She had been alone in the club and already quite drunk when Tonks had found her. Her messy hair was dyed blond but a dark roots were visible. Muggle magic. Incondite.

Tonks shuddered. "I hate to impost a man," she murmured.

Harry frowned. "You could have taken a man," he said, what he obviously would have preferred.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Bella insisted on a woman," she explained. "Probably because she thought it would make you uncomfortable."

Harry snorted and Tonks chuckled. Bella had assumed correctly, it seemed.

"Shall I wake her up?" she asked innocently.

Harry folded his arms over his chest. "Sure," he answered casually.

Tonks knew that she was being unfair and that Harry's reaction was mainly motivated by defiance but she liked him and it was better when she confronted him than when Bella did it.

Tonks leaned over to the woman and pointed her wand at her. "_Enervate."_ she said.

The woman sprawled and slowly opened her eyes. Sleepily she looked around. "Wher'am I?" she asked. Obviously she was not disturbed by waking up in an unknown place.

As she got no answer she sat up and looked around. She frowned as she took in the old furniture and book shelves. She probably felt as much elation as Tonks when she had first come here. Tonks had an aversion against old houses.

"Who're ya guys?" the woman asked Tonks and Harry, eying them with uncertainty and suspicion now.

Before either of them could answer the door was forcefully opened.

"Ooh, can't you wait to start, Potter?" Bella cooed.

Harry and Tonks spun around. Bella smirked at Harry trying to agitate him.

Tonks could not help but think that she had absolutely ruined her preparation. And she could not help but think that Bella looked absolutely gorgeous. She had not told Harry the full truth. There had been another reason for her to join the Death Eaters. Her aunt.

-

Harry stared at Bellatrix. He would not let her taunt him.

"We just took a look," said Tonks.

"You can do more than just take a look," replied Bellatrix, still looking at Harry.

He had not expected to start immediately. He glanced at the woman. Would he be able to curse her? Or better: could he do it? Would he want to? Saying something and doing something was a difference, he knew that. But he also knew that he could not possibly back down now.

"What the fuck're ya talkin' about?" the woman asked again, frightened now.

Harry did not like the fact that she was a woman. It would have been easier with a man. But he did not want to give Bellatrix the satisfaction of admitting that. Besides did it _really_ make a difference? Gender should not matter.

"She is unaware of what is going to happen," Bellatrix whispered, a little surprised. Harry could see a mean gleam in her eyes.

Tonks shrugged. "She was not unwilling to go with me." Bellatrix gave her niece an amused look but Harry did not miss the approval in it.

The fact that she was completely ignored frightened the woman further. "I know, you're some kinda sect, ain't ya?" she said and backed away from them.

Unexpectedly fast Bellatrix withdrew her wand and pointed it at the woman. Thin ropes shot from the cusp and wound around the woman's body, keeping her from leaving.

She screamed and started to shout: "Bloody shit-" but with another flick of Bella's wand she fell silent.

"Now, Harry," Bellatrix said. Behind her Harry could see the woman struggle silently against her bonds. "The Dark Lord ordered me to teach you the unforgivable curses." She grinned and Harry had the feeling that she did not mind that order at all. "Since we should not practice them on each other, especially not the third one, we need someone else." She gave the woman, who stared at her like she was out of her mind, a short look. Harry nodded to show that he had understood.

Bellatrix went on: "We will start out with the 'easiest' curse, the _imperius_. The curse itself is not difficult to cast. It creates a connection between your own mind and the one of the victim. The difficulty however is to hold the curse. You have to overpower the other one's will and make them do what you want them to do. You will soon realize that it is easier to make someone do something he would also do willingly than something he wouldn't."

Harry nodded again. That made perfectly sense. Bellatrix peered at him. Then she turned to the woman. The ropes disappeared. Bellatrix waved her wand again and said: "_Imperio._"

The woman stood up and walked over to them where she remained standing still, no longer looking afraid.

"You see. Coming here was not something she had a real aversion to so it was relatively easy to make her do it. Try." Bellatrix instructed.

Harry shifted in his position and withdrew his own wand. He was aware of Bellatrix' supervising gaze. He could not suppress the feeling that she waited for him to make a mistake. He frowned. This could not be too difficult. He pointed his wand at the woman and said: _"Imperio."_

Instantly he felt a connection to her mind like a warm flow of thoughts. What should he make her do? Something easy, Bellatrix had said.

_Sit down on the couch. _He thought.

Harry felt confusion from the woman. She flinched but did not move.

_Sit down on the couch. _He ordered, more forcefully this time.

Now the woman obeyed. Apparently indifferent she went over to the couch and sat down.

Harry looked at Bellatrix. She nodded. "Now that wasn't hard, was it, Harry?" she asked mockingly. "But you will barely need the curse for such things, for it is as I said something she would also do willingly."

Bellatrix went over to the woman and grabbed her arm. Harry's curse broke as Bellatrix pulled her up from the couch and dragged her to the middle of the room. Tonks had sat down in an armchair and watched them with curiosity.

"The next one will be easy," Bellatrix said to Harry, far too innocently for his taste. "Make her stay in place."

He narrowed his eyes. Considering Bellatrix' lurking look on him this could not be everything. Did she think he could not do it? Of course. It was time to prove her otherwise.

"_Imperio._" Harry said.

Again a connection to the woman's mind was opened.

_Stand still._ He ordered. Bellatrix let go of the woman who remained in place.

"Let's see how long you can maintain control over her," Bellatrix drooled and conjured a whip.

In one a fast swinging movement that showed experience she hit the woman across her back. The woman screamed soundlessly and immediately broke from her position and fell to the floor. Appalled by Bella's action and the woman's sudden pain Harry had let his control slip.

Bellatrix grinned. "Now what didn't you understand about this exercise?" she asked in mock confusion. "I said: make her stay in place. Again Potter."

Harry scowled. "_Imperio._" he said pointing his wand at the woman.

When Harry had mused about Voldemort's theory he had come to the conclusion that muggles were indeed inferior to them but still... did the woman deserve this? On the other hand he had decided to do this, he wanted to know how to cast the three unforgivable curses. Should he already fail at the first? It was not in Harry's nature to step back from a decision so quickly.

_Stand up. Don't move. _He demanded. Now there was a lot of aversion in the woman. She hesitated but as he increased the mental pressure she obeyed.

Again Bellatrix struck with the whip. It sliced through the clothing like a knife, leaving bloody cuts on the woman's back. Again she screamed and tried to curl up. With great effort Harry made her stay in place. Bellatrix hit her again and with the augmentation of her pain, the woman's mental resistance increased.

When she was struck the third time Harry practically screamed in her mind: _Don't move!!_

The fourth time Harry was not able anymore to uphold control. Again she threw the curse off and curled up on the floor, sobbing. Her clothes were torn and she was bleeding.

"Now what was that, Harry? I wasn't finished," Bella raised her eyebrows. "Maybe we swop positions and I show you again how it works?"

She held the whip out to him. Harry only stared at it. "Ah, it's like I thought," Bella said, sounding highly satisfied. "You don't have it in you, Potter. You pity this filthy bitch."At the last words she forcefully kicked the woman in the rips who only curled up further.

Harry felt furious. Furious towards himself. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to let the woman suffer, to prove that he was capable of doing so. But he just...could not.

"You don't need to pity her," Tonks suddenly interfered.

She stood up and walked over to the woman. With a flick of her wand she lifted the silencing spell. Now the woman's sobs could be heard.

Tonks grabbed her chin and made her look at her.

"P-please...stop," the woman sobbed.

Tonks said nothing and slowly she changed her features into male one's. Her jaw got stronger, her cheekbones more distinctive. When she was done Harry guessed she had to resemble the man she had imposed when meeting this woman.

Now the woman looked panicked. Before she had been frightened to death but now unreasonable panic was visible in her eyes.

"O, fuck," she breathed. "What 're you? What the fuck're you? Is this some creepy 'orror movie shit?"

Tonks still made the woman look at her and changed her features to a resemblance of the woman's.

That only agitated her further.

"Freak. Leave me be, ya bloody leach," she screamed. "O my god, I must be 'aving a nightmare..."

Tonks stepped away from her again. "Do you understand, Harry? She fears magic because she doesn't understand. She's too dumb and too unworthy to understand our nature. You don't need to pity her."

_Freak._ How Harry hated this word. How could he have forgotten? All his hatred for the woman's kind. No, he did not need to pity her.

"Let's try again," he said calmly.

Bella grinned. "If you want. Remember: If you really want her to do your bidding she will. You have to want to control her."

"_Imperio._" he said once more.

_Stand up. Do not move. _He ordered fiercely. Shakily the woman stood up.

Bella lashed out with the whip and with a loud snap it hit the woman's naked flesh. This time the woman's screams could be heard loudly.

She struggled against the _imperius _curse the best she could but Harry made her stay in place. Bella hit her over and over again but she did not move. Harry smirked. He felt completely in control over someone else for the first time in his life. Bella was right: he had to really want that she obeyed him. And he wanted it. He wanted the woman to receive her punishment. Slowly he moved around the woman, to probably see the wounds Bella inflicted on her. All the blood was a new fascination for him. It was freeing not to think that he was _obliged _to care.

"That's enough," Bella finally said after she had given the woman about twenty whippings. "It would not work in our favor if she died before we're finished."

Harry lifted the curse. Momentarily the woman fell to the floor. She groaned and sobbed quietly, apparently refusing to move anymore.

Bellatrix vanished the whip. "Now that was fun, don't you think Harry?" this time she wasn't mocking him and her mischievous grin reminded him of her cousin.

Harry returned her grin. "Yes, that actually was fun, even more for you than for me."

-

In the evening Bellatrix wanted to examine Harry's Occlumency skills. Harry hated that he had to do this with her but he was confidential that she would not be able to see in his mind like Snape had. He was not sure to what degree but he had gotten a lot better at Occlumency over the summer.

For this 'lesson' they met in another room, which Harry believed had been some kind of dining room since the one they had previously used was still occupied by the muggle woman.

Tonks had magically chained her to a wall so that she could not leave. Harry doubted that she would try that in her state but still, she might cause problems somehow.

Now Harry sat across from Bellatrix regarding her unemotionally.

"Before we actually start the practice, I will examine how strong your basic Occlumency shields are," Bellatrix started. "To do that I will simply cast _legilimens _on you and you try to protect your mind with another spell you see fit. You may be acquainted with this method."

"Indeed," Harry said. He grinned. Bellatrix had undoubtedly set up a challenge. If he used another spell then _protego_ he would be able to see in _her_ mind. Like he had been with Snape. It would be quite interesting if he could turn things around.

"Good," was Bella's only reaction before she shouted without warning: "_Legilimens!_"

Instantly images flooded through Harry's mind...

_...Ginny was crying, confessing to him what her family had done... seeing Ron and Hermione again in Diagon Alley... he pretended to be their friend... his relatives... Dudley laughing... Vernon started to beat him... _

_No, it's one of those memories! She can't see it! _Harry thought fiercely. There was so much pain, so much hate in this memories... but he had practiced it. _Clear your mind. _He was not weak. He would not submit to his personal nightmares.

"_Diffindo_," he exclaimed.

Distantly he heard Bellatrix scream and then he could see into her mind...

_...a black haired girl, about eighteen, screaming at her sister who was almost a complete resemblance of her... a young woman in her bondage ceremony with a man who was about ten years older than her... Bellatrix, when she was dragged away after her trial's end by Dementors laughing uncontrollably..._

"_Crucio_!" Bellatrix screamed and the immense pain made Harry snap out of her mind.

His body was shaking violently, but the curse did not last longer than a few moments. When it was over, Harry was almost surprised to find himself on the floor. Bellatrix was looking down at him, her arm bleeding from a nasty, deep cut. She frowned furiously at first but then the corners of her mouth curled up to a smile.

"That wasn't bad, Potter," she said. "Maybe you'll at least show some potential."

"I'm glad you have such confidence in me," Harry remarked sarcastically as he got up from the floor.

She waved her hand dismissively. "We'll see. Some things require will, Potter, not only talent. I wonder if you're strong enough to fulfill the Dark Lord's expectations or if you'll crawl back at Dumbledore's feed, yearning for his protection-"

Harry grabbed her roughly at her injured arm. "I will never do that! Dumbledore is going to die and I will make sure that it will be slow and gruesome," he hissed.

Bellatrix did not more than flinch at his violent grip. "Only words, Potter," she spat. "Words mean nothing."

Harry glared at her. Again a challenge. He would not step down from it. She would only see it as cowardice. He shook her. "What do you want me to do, then?"

Bellatrix smirked. She knew she had him. "If you should be able to cast the unforgivable curses it won't mean much," she said mockingly. "It's just some filthy muggle slut and you could imagine her to be anyone, someone you hate maybe. No, I want to see if you are really able to make someone suffer."

"You want me to torture the muggle? Is it that?" Harry asked. He was getting annoyed by her constant taunting.

"I'm open minded. Be creative," she said patronizingly. "And stay alert. _Crucio._"

Again Harry tumbled over in pain. He had let her distract him, made him forgot she still held her wand. The curse was quickly lifted again but when Harry looked up, Bellatrix had already left the room.

"Bloody bitch," Harry muttered.

* * *

**REVIEW PLEASE!!**

**EDITED 01/19/10**


	10. Unforgivable, Irresistible

"**speech"**

***mind speech***

_**thoughts, visions, dreams**_

"_**hexes, curses, jinxes"**_

**::Parseltongue::**

**Warning: This chapter is rated M for graphic torture.**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Unforgivable, Irresistible**

Harry woke early the next morning despite his late training with Bellatrix. He had thought about the challenge she had set up for him. He did not implicitly feel the need to prove himself to Bellatrix Lestrange of all people. But he saw this challenge as a chance. If he wanted to join Voldemort's ranks Bellatrix would not be the only one to doubt him.

Of course no one would go openly against him when Voldemort had forbidden it but it was always better to be respected than simply tolerated.

_Respected or feared? _A tiny voice asked him.

_Probably feared_. Harry answered his own mind. _But it does not really matter._

And it really did not. He hold no love for any of the Death Eaters and if they were not useful to Voldemort - and with that to Harry - they could go to hell for all he cared.

Carelessly Harry put some random clothing on and slowly walked down the stairs. Bellatrix had disapparated the last evening and would probably not be back until sometime later in forenoon and Tonks was somewhere around the house, sleeping or doing whatever. Which meant he had no hurry at all.

Grinning sarcastically Harry thought about how delighted Rita Skeeter would be could she see him now. It would perfectly fit into her bias of portraying him as a completely insane, attention-searching psychokid. He could almost imagine the headline.

HAD THE BOY WHO LIVED A HAND IN BRINGING YOU KNOW WHO BACK?

Yes, she would definitely love this. Tragically she would be the only one to do so.

Harry was well aware of the advantage Voldemort had gained by getting Harry to join him. Simply the affect on the common morale would be immense.

_They deserve it. _Harry thought with hateful satisfaction. When he had tried to save them, to protect them, no one had listened. He stared down at his hand and the shimmering scars _I must not tell lies. _Maybe it was time he lived up to their expectations?

Shaking his daydream off he walked through Riddle Manor. When the house had been build it must have been worth a lot. By now it probably only had antique value, if anything. Harry wonder when the last time was that someone had actually lived in the house.

Most of the furniture was very old and the paintings seemed to belong to the original furnishing. Harry guessed that they had been made in times of the Industrial Revolution because many of them showed factories and facilities around Edinburgh. Harry could imagine very well that this strong reference to muggle technics had only increased Voldemort's detest for this part of his family.

Slowly Harry entered the room where they kept the woman.

Limply she sat with her back against the wall, bound by ties around her wrists. She appeared to be sleeping or simply having passed out because of exhaustion. Silently Harry watched her. He had a faint idea what to do and he was sure that Bella would be quite surprised.

Carefully he approached the woman and crouched beside her.

"Wake up," he whispered while he lightly touched her shoulder.

Slowly the woman opened her eyes and stared at him as if she was not sure if what she was experiencing was reality or hallucination.

Her widely opened eyes showed despair but also uncertainty. She did not seem to be nearly as afraid of Harry as she was of Tonks. Harry assumed that was due to the fact that she had not understood what he had done yesterday but she had seen what Tonks _could _do.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked her lowly with a hint of worry.

She frowned but did not respond. Instead she looked away and surveyed the room again.

"Did you understand me?" Harry asked, a bit more loudly than before.

The woman's head shot around as she looked at him again. Hesitantly she nodded. Harry grinned inwardly but kept his slightly sorrowful look. _Good._

"Where am I?," the woman finally asked weakly.

Leaning back a little, Harry shook his head. "I can't tell you."

She opened her mouth as if to contradict him but closed it again and nodded.

"I don't understand this... ," she started pleadingly. "I know nothing... I won't tell anythin'! Please... let me go! I promise... I'll say I passed out from XTC and don' know what happened... no one's goin' to care..."

"Hush," Harry whispered and pretended to look around nervously. "Maybe... I can't promise anything..."

"Wait," she cried desperately and managed to grab his wrist. "The black haired woman... talk to her... please do what you want just let me go... you... boy, if you want to have me you can... just, just talk to her, okay?"

So she was offering herself to him? She did not seem to have thought too much about that. Harry found it quite disgusting that she apparently did not really care if she had sex with him or not.

Gently but firmly he removed his hand from her grasp.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said. "I can't. I won't hurt you. But stop offering things that could be taken... anyways. It might anger my... friends."

She did not react at first than she nodded. "'kay," she said.

Harry sighed. "What's your name?" he asked finally.

At first she seemed to be reluctant to reveal her name. "I...," she answered slowly. "I'm Sarah."

Harry smiled a tiny smile. "Are you hungry, Sarah?" he asked again.

Sarah licked her lips and this time she nodded. "Thirsty," she added.

Harry nodded and stood up. Quickly he left the room.

This should be easy if Sarah was indeed as unaware and desperate to gain an ally as she appeared. Without interruption he made his way to the kitchen. Tonks had never commented on where she got the food from. Paying no attention Harry collected some on a plate and searched for an unbroken glass. There was not much dinnerware in the house and of the little left a great deal was broken or had cracks.

When he found one he filled it with mains water. It had been rusty at the beginning but Harry had left it turned on until it became clear. He still was not sure if it was healthy to drink the water but Sarah would die anyways, long before she could worry about what she had drunken.

When he was about to leave, Tonks entered the kitchen.

On sight of him she narrowed her eyes.

"Wotcher, Harry. What are you doing?," she asked in a mockingly suspicious tone.

Harry could only look at her in bewilderment.

"Being nice to the muggle, Harry?," she went on. "Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"What happened to your look?," Harry managed to ask.

"What? Oh, nothing _happened._ That's what I would look like if I wasn't a metamorphmagus. Well, almost," she explained. Harry nodded slowly in understanding. He had never thought about if what she usually looked like actually was what she truly looked like.

Though her face was still heart-shaped it had lost some of its softness. Her eyes were heavy lidded similar to those of Bellatrix. All in all one did not need to be a genius to figure out she was a Black. The only thing that was clearly different were the radiant pink highlights in her black hair.

"You look a lot like Bellatrix," Harry stated.

Tonks laughed. "No, I look a lot like my mother. As well does Bella," she said.

"Why did you change it?" Harry asked, although he already had an idea.

"Do you remember your answer when I asked you if you would like to use metamorphmagic to hide your scar?," Tonks asked seriously.

Harry nodded. "I said I wouldn't."

"Well, you weren't looked upon like a dark creature, now were you?" Tonks replied. "The Ministry says they aren't prejudiced but strangely it was very beneficial for me to look more like my muggleborn father."

Harry said nothing. He knew very well how _he _would have reacted, had Tonks looked so much like Bellatrix the first time he'd seen her.

"Whatever," she dismissed the subject. "What kind of game are you playing with Bella, huh? Don't even try to deny it I know there's something going on between the two of you."

Harry gave her a look. Should he try to deny it? She would not believe him anyways. "It's nothing to worry about," he said abruptly.

Tonks did not look convinced. "Don't do something stupid because you're jealous of-"

"I'm _not _jealous of Bellatrix," Harry snapped. Why the fuck was everyone going on about it? "Why should I?"

Tonks burst out in laughter. Panting for air she leaned on the table. Harry gave her a dark look. "Harry, I'm not stupid, you know," she said grinning widely. "I'm sure the hard mattress didn't make your ass hurt so you couldn't sit the first day I came here."

He glared at Tonks. "That still doesn't mean that I'm jealous," he insisted.

"Ah, come on Harry, you can admit it. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Jealousy is natural and I mean Bella is really good looking and I'm sure she's very talented in bed." Tonks mused.

"Practice makes perfect," Harry muttered. Then he hesitated. Narrowing his eyes he watched Tonks. "One moment. May it be that _you_ are jealous?"

"Me?," Tonks asked surprised. "Whom should I be jealous of?"

"Oh... I don't know. Voldemort?"

"Harry, your self-confidence-" she started but Harry interrupted her.

"I wasn't talking about me," he chuckled shaking his head. "I think you have a thing for your auntie."

"No!" Tonks exclaimed. "What the hell makes you think that?"

"I'm not stupid either," he mimicked her words. "You defend her. You started telling me she's not that bad. In our lesson yesterday your eyes never left her. I didn't pay heed to it until you were practically raving on _how hot she is_."

"I never said she was _hot_!," Tonks shot back.

"You did," Harry said matter-of-factly when he left the kitchen.

"You're talking nonsense!," Tonks shouted after him.

Harry had actually only guessed when he had voiced that Tonks might be infatuated with her aunt but now he was sure of it. She had screwed up with her reaction just as much as he had. If Harry had not been correct she would have merely laughed at him or been bewildered.

Although the thought of Tonks together with her _aunt_ somehow needed getting used to it was very convenient for Harry. If Bellatrix should return her feelings... well it would be a chance of keeping her out of his sex life – and Voldemort's bed.

Ignoring Tonks he headed towards Sarah. Silently he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Sarah had fallen asleep again so Harry set the food down in front of her.

He turned to leave when she woke up.

"Can you untie my hands?" she asked him.

Harry looked at her for a moment, then he nodded. "Look down," he said.

When she obeyed Harry took out his wand and spelled the lock of her chains open with a murmured _Alohomora._

Groaning, Sarah stretched her arms and leaned away from the wall. "My back hurts," she groaned more to herself than to Harry.

As she greedily reached for the glass of water, Harry looked at her back. The blood had dried and a thin scurf covered the wounds.

"What's going to happen to me?," Sarah asked fearfully as she started eating.

Again Harry looked around as if to see if someone was overhearing them. "I don't know," he answered nervously.

"Didn' they tell you?," Sarah asked on. She stuffed the food in her mouth like someone had told her it was the last she would ever eat.

"I...," he started a little annoyed. "They said it's a surprise." At this he shuddered slightly.

"Why you here anyways? You seem normal," she said.

Harry hated the word normal. It was all the Dursleys stood for, being normal. There had been a time when Harry had wanted the same, to be a normal child with parents and without such a burden. But he did not care for it any longer. He did not crave to be like the others, like Ron or Hermione. It had started to dawn on him in the last term: They knew nothing, they were totally oblivious to the cruelty of the world, they were victims and made to such by themselves.

"They persuaded me to come with them, Tom, Dora and Bella," Harry lied. "They said that we were doing something special, that it was a surprise and I would see." He leaned closer and whispered: "I didn't know that this would happen. If I had I wouldn't have come."

"Who are those guys, your friends? Who's Tom?" she asked him.

"Tom's not here." Harry answered. Well, that was true. "I shouldn't have told you this... you're not supposed to know."

"I will never tell anyone," Sarah promised. "Your friends, will they let me go? This is jus' for fun right? They won't kill me, will they?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, a little fearful now. "They're not really my friends... I barely know them." He shook his head. "I'll go now."

"Wait," Sarah said. "I have to go to the loo."

"Okay, come. I'll show you," he said. "Can you stand up?"

Sarah was a little weak in the lacks but she managed. She staggered like she had drunken too much when she carefully followed him outside the room. From the corner of an eye he saw her looking around nervously.

With huge eyes she took in the scenery around her. Harry noticed her gaze flicker towards the windows. She turned her head to him, angst written all over her face and opened her mouth as if to speak.

In that moment Tonks came down the stairs. Quickly Sarah looked away like she was hoping not to be noticed.

Tonks gave Harry a dark look but did not take up their conversation from before. Instead she asked:

"What are you doing?"

Sarah clung to him, Tonks' performance had obviously terrified her beyond everything else. Determined but gently he pushed her away from him.

"I'm taking her to the bathroom," Harry answered a little wearily. Tonks raised her eyebrows at his tone. Sarah had her head still turned in the other direction. Harry mouthed _be intimidating_ to Tonks and hoped she would get it. Tonks frowned briefly then she shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she growled menacingly. "Be careful and don't let her run away."

Harry nodded quickly and said: "Of course not."

To 'avoid' further conversation he dragged Sarah away from Tonks and brought her to the bathroom.

"I have to lock you inside," he whispered in apologetic tones. "Don't take too long."

Sarah nodded and swept into the room. Harry closed the door behind her and turned the rusty key. _Dimwitted bitch_, he thought. It had been much easier for him to make the woman want to trust him than he had expected.

Briefly he wondered if he had been just as trusting as Sarah when Ron and Hermione had approached him. Harry had to admit that it had been quite dense on his part to fall for all their tricks and lies. He had always forgiven them, especially Ron after their argument in fourth year. Even last year when it became all the more obvious that they thought him a burden he had blamed everything on himself as if _he needed them._ What a joke! It was more the other way round, they needed him! If Dumbledore did not win this war things would look very bad for them being a mudblood and a bloodtraitor. Dumbledore needed him as well to be his martyr, his weapon, to increase his glory.

His glory! If Dumbledore wanted to be the light's saint he could be and start out as the martyr. Or maybe not. Would it not be much more fitting if Dumbledore died in dishonor and shame, all his flaws laid open to the world?

Harry felt the bitter taste of hatred in his mouth. He did not want to muse about this, he needed to appear calm. Mumbling a spell he conjured a soft blindfold made of thick, dark fabric.

"Are you ready?," he asked through the door.

"Yeah," came the answer from the inside. Impatiently he turned the key again and opened the door.

Sarah looked somewhat more relaxed and eyed him in fearful expectation.

"What now?," she asked worriedly.

Harry hold up the blindfold. "I could convince the others to let me give you this. Things will be easier then for you."

She looked at the cloth and back at him.

"I promise. It's to your own benefit. Please, I had to be very convincing," Harry tried to persuade her.

She nodded. "'kay. Thanks, I guess."

Harry smiled weekly and put the cloth over her eyes. "Just follow me. I won't let you fall."

Carefully he directed her back to the room they kept her in.

-

Tonks was watching them again like a day before. Now Harry had a pretty good idea why she was doing so. His gaze wavered over to her and he gave her a meaningful look. She narrowed her eyes.

"I think you theoretically already know how the _cruciatus_ curse works," Bellatrix was saying with a hint of mockery. "Do you need a reminder?"

Harry gave her a cool look. "No. I will manage."

"If you think so, Potter," Bellatrix merely answered, a lurking grin on her face.

She had not commented the blindfold that covered Sarah's eyes although Harry had noticed a brief curious expression on her face. Neither had she noticed or simply ignored the the deafening spell he had put on the woman. It was essential for his plan that Sarah did not realize his part in the actions.

Harry concentrated on Sarah and thought about the disgust he had begun to feel towards her, towards her kind. He had to want to make her hurt, well, that would not be too difficult.

"_Crucio,_" he intoned as he pointed his wand at her.

Sarah started to whine and quiver in pain but she did not scream as she would have under Bella's curse.

Harry frowned lightly and concentrated on his hatred. He thought about the Dursleys, thought about what his uncle had done to him, what his aunt, the _sister of his mother_, had forced upon him ever since he had been going to Hogwarts. He remembered Sarah's reaction to Tonks' magic. _They don't understand magic. _Voldemort had said. He had been absolutely right with that. _They do not understand our nature or what we are. _Harry thought. Like a cow did not understand why she was fed and watered everyday, unaware to the mechanisms of the world around her.

Dwelling on his feelings he tried to intensify his curse. Now Sarah started to scream loudly and her body trembled uncontrollably.

Like he did with the _imperius _curse Harry began to feel the power he held over the pathetic woman. And this time he felt even more in control. To see this pain in her eyes, pain he knew _he _had caused her was more liberating than he would ever have assumed. It freed him from the feeling of being played, being used by Dumbledore. To give in to this forbidden pleasure was a sensation of its own.

But besides that he enjoyed the control and power that he felt. And he realized that the longer he held the spell the stronger it would probably get. Now that he had started to cause the pain he wanted to continue it, he wanted to see how much Sarah could bear.

Harry's eyes were wide in morbid fascination as he watched the woman's petite body cramp and twist.

Ever since he had begun to feel this effect he had stopped to focus on anything else. Therefore the flood of pictures hit him like a wave. His curse faltered and ended. Harry fell to the floor, clutching his head with his hands. Pictures showed up and vanished inside his mind so fast that he could not even make them out. The mere speed made him dizzy and aching.

When he realized after a few moments that there was no end near he tried to calm his mind. Numbing his mind to the flood of memories he started to clear it step by step. Finding the source of the flood, Bella's presence, he wondered what would happen if he tried to 'clear' his mind from her as well. _No emotion_. He remembered. With all his concentration he pushed against Bella's presence, trying to make her fade. Her presence slowly dissipated until his mind was clear.

Breathing heavily Harry got up from the ground, shaking. Sarah with still lying there, covering her head with her hands. Tonks had not moved in her seat and Bella casually stood next to her, grinning.

"What the hell was that?," Harry hissed angrily.

"Potter," Bella drawled like she was speaking to a three year old child. "Surely you don't expect Dumbledore to announce when he wants to read your mind and openly throw _legilimens _at you? You have to learn to notice when someone tries to enter."

Harry scowled but he had to admit that she was right. Using Occlumency before he fell asleep would only prevent him from dreaming about Voldemort not Dumbledore from reading his mind when he was in the old man's office.

"Admittedly, your curse was better than I expected," Bellatrix said surprisingly. "But you will need to keep your focus while you cast it. It's a quite dangerous sight effect of the _cruciatus _curse. You can never risk shutting your mind off from your surroundings like that. Try again."

And Harry tried again. And again. And again. It was a lot harder to concentrate on Occlumency and the _cruciatus _curse the same time than only on one of the two things. Either his curse was not cast correctly or his Occlumency faltered and more than one time he found himself on the floor due to Bella's violent ripping through his mind.

"_Crucio_," Harry cast again. Sarah had started to faint from time to time and he guessed that their lesson would have to end anytime soon unless he wanted cause her irreversible damage. Harry's main problem was that he could not concentrate on the passion of causing pain yet the same time clear his mind from all feelings. _There must be a way around that._ He thought as he saw the curse slip away.

Maybe... maybe if he did not care _at all_. He continued to clear his mind while the curse got so weak that it had to be nothing more than a slight aching. He felt Bella lightly probe his mind. Concentrating he closed it completely and her suddenly aggressive attack on his shields failed. Then he turned the same concentration on the _cruciatus _curse. Immediately it intensified. Harry managed not to be carried away be the effect of the curse instead regarding the torture as a pleasure but one that was not overpowering him.

He looked at Bella with raised eyebrows. She clapped her hands in mock cheer.

"Very well, Potter. Took you long enough," she commented in a patronizing tone.

Harry dropped the curse.

"Is that all?," he asked seemingly bored.

Bellatrix grinned wickedly. "For today," she said. "Tomorrow you will show me fake memories when I probe your mind. Dumbledore would get suspicious if you locked your thoughts away from him, wouldn't he?"

-

"What do you think?," came the question from behind her back.

Bella whirled around. Sometimes even she was startled at how quiet her niece was able to move. Nymphadora was leaning against the the wall, watching Bella attentively.

"About what?," Bella asked back. She found the plain way of Nymphadora refreshing, her rebelliousness against protocol and society somehow reminding Bella of herself.

Nymphadora smiled. "About Harry," she defined. "I did not expect him to adapt so quickly."

Bella was not quite sure anymore what to think of Harry Potter. It had surely been entertaining to play with him and she was quite positive that he would come up with something creative in response to the challenge she had set for him but still... She was unaware to what Her Lord intended to do with him. Of course Harry Potter would be useful as an ally if only to break the light's spirit. Furthermore it would be a great satisfaction for Her Lord to show Dumbledore that he was able to turn the Golden Boy on his side, but what afterward?

At first she had expected that Her Lord wanted to break Harry Potter but she could easily dismiss that thought by now. Although this idea had excited her a lot, training the boy was almost even better. To see him go dark, Dumbledore's most appreciated weapon... that was very satisfying for her as well. Not only that but Potter loosing his self-righteousness. Bella figured his darker side would be quite enjoyable.

"I was surprised after his poor performance at the Ministry," Bella admitted. "I had expected him to linger upon his wretched world view."

"He is way more clever and creative than people are giving him credit for, you know, aunt?," Nymphadora remarked.

"That has still to show," answered Bella. "What do you feel about him, Nymphadora?"

Her niece glared at her. "Don't call me that. I hate it," she complained.

Bella sneered. "Don't expect me to call you your filthy muggle name like Potter does!"

"He does it because I asked him to," Nymphadora snapped. "How do I feel about him? We're kind of friends I guess. Or friendly acquaintances."

"Well then," Bella answered somewhat annoyed. She had quite well understood the silent accusation in Nymphadora's words. But they were family. Bella knew better than to turn her back on her own blood. "Dora then, is that better?"

'Dora' gave her a genuine smile. "Much," she grinned.

"You look good with longer hair, little niece," Bella remarked. _You look like you belong. In my family._

Dora shrugged. "I dunno," she said. "Maybe I'll have it short again."

"No," Bella demanded. She stepped closer to the younger woman and lightly took her hair between her fingers. "No. Let it stay this way."

They looked at each other for a moment, then Dora laughed lightheartedly. "If you want," she said.

"Why did you come to me? Just to ask me about Potter?," Bella asked.

"No," Dora responded with a sly smile. Quickly she stepped away and left the room.

Bella stared at the closed door. She had seen a very interesting conversation in Potter's mind today. It seemed her dear niece was far less innocent than she liked to appear.

-

The next morning Harry felt totally exhausted despite the sleep he had gotten. The extensive training with Bellatrix had drained him not only magically but also mentally. He had hardly ever had to concentrate so hard for such a large amount of time.

Nevertheless he still felt a lot better than he did when staying with the Dursleys. There, bodily work - _in more than one way_, he thought bitterly – and constant fear, something that later on changed into indifference, had worn him out completely.

Before Harry left his room he looked in the mirror and raised his wand to his face. Carefully, like Tonks had shown him, he cast a glamor charm on himself. Large purple bruises appeared on the left side of his face together with a matching jag in his eyebrow.

Since Harry had been injured multiple times he had no problem doing a convincing job. Satisfied with what he saw in the mirror he went downstairs to look after Sarah once again.

When he entered her room bringing food like the day before she was in an even worse state. Again she had fallen asleep while sitting upright. There were no new physical injuries visible but when Harry shook her to wake her up she required some time until her consciousness came back. Harry realized that her mind must have slightly withdrawn from reality.

He said nothing when he opened her ties and placed the food in front of her but he regarded her closely and with caution.

She took in every movement of his with huge eyes and when he was about to leave again Sarah said: "What happened to your face?"

Harry briefly smiled to himself before he looked back and hesitated. Then he shook his head fiercely and murmured with a hint of apology in his voice:

"I shouldn't talk to you."

"Wait, please...," Sarah pleaded, desperately now. "Did … did they do this to you?"

Harry sighed, then he nodded briefly.

"But... why,?" asked Sarah. Harry did not need to be a legilimens to know that she was most desperate to gain his help. Well he would not disappoint her. For now.

Carefully Harry listened for signs of someone else being close to the room. When he seemingly heard none he approached Sarah again.

"What they did yesterday... I – I couldn't stand it. I'd better have. They did not like it... didn't like it at all," he explained very lowly.

"What... what'd they do to me,?" Sarah asked hesitantly.

Harry shuddered. "I can't tell you." He shook his head again. "Please don't ask me."

Sarah nodded. "I'm not sure I want t'know."

"Will they let you go,?" she asked after a moment of silence.

Harry closed his eyes. "I've no idea. Maybe. I don't know if they trust me enough to keep quite."

"And me? What abou' me?," Sarah asked and silent tears ran down her face. "I want to live... I want to..."

"Hush," Harry said and lightly touched her arm. She flinched. "Please... keep quite. I dunno. I don't know what they want to do, they don't tell me anything, never did. Maybe I failed some test... maybe..."

Sarah looked away from him the instant he said that he did not know what would happen to her.

After a moment she returned her gaze to him. "Please help me," she said finally. "I don't care how as long as I will live... but please get me out of this..."

"I wish I could, I wish I knew how to help myself...," Harry said in a slightly choked voice. He looked Sarah in the eyes, desperation meeting helplessness. "I'll see what I can do."

"Here, I almost forgot," he said and held up the blindfold. "They told me to give you this again..."

* * *

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

**EDITED 01/19/10**


	11. Ice In Your Eyes

**A little more inside in Tonks' thoughts in this chapter and slight GWxLL! I'm really happy about the part on Ginny and Luna, I think it's the best part of the chapter...**

**Warning: Again rated M for graphic torture. Reviewers claimed this chapter to be saw-esque.**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Ice In Your Eyes**

To conjure fake memories was probably the hardest thing Harry had ever tried even in comparison to the _Patronus _charm. Bellatrix had given him an unusual long and detailed instruction but still Harry did not feel that he was making any progress.

"Potter," Bellatrix snapped after a while. "I realize that this is difficult but _we are running out of time._ You holidays will be over in _three days. _Then you'll be going back to Hogwarts and I won't have Dumbledore be aware of the Dark Lord's plans just because your mind is leaking! So get a grip and concentrate."

"What do you think I'm doing here? It just doesn't work!" Harry hissed furiously.

"You're not trying hard enough," Bellatrix accused him.

"I'm damn well trying as hard as I can! Now would you shut the fuck up and at least let me concentrate when you're not helping?," Harry shouted enraged.

Bellatrix glared daggers at him but let him continue.

When he felt Bellatrix slowly entering his mind he started replaying wrong memories. Yesterday evening: dinner with the Dursleys. It was not hard since he had many memories like this... he tried to make it as livid as he could.

"Wait," Bellatrix interrupted him. "There is something... your family. Real or fake?"

She had seen it? And she could not tell by herself that it was fake. "Fake," he confirmed.

Bellatrix muttered something under her breath. Harry could tell that it definitely sounded relieved. "Now show me more, it has to be faster. Remember, Harry Potter, it is subconscious, just let the memories flow... your real ones should be protected by the Occlumency shields...," she instructed him.

Let them flow? How should he let one memory flow?

"It doesn't have to be detailed... they will develop by themselves," Bellatrix went on.

Hastily Harry showed her some other fake memories all related to the summer holidays. Doing chores, a visit from aunt Marge and Ripper, Dudley's gang, doing chores, the letter from Ron, Vernon shouting at him, doing chores...

Harry tried not to concentrate to much on one of the memories. He felt Bella probe the memory of aunt Marge's visit. It was strange to feel her presence and not to push her out of his mind. Then suddenly the memory of Marge developed on its own as Bellatrix looked closer at it. It became detailed and longer. Harry stood still in amazement.

"Finally," Bellatrix sighed. "I think you got the basics. Who was that woman?"

Harry glared at her. He hated speaking about Marge. Even to Ron and Hermione he had always kept quite about his 'aunt'.

"Uncle Vernon's sister," he said shortly.

Bellatrix grimaced disgustedly but said nothing. Harry did not mind at all. He did not need comfort – especially not from her.

"Well then, it's about time-" Bellatrix started but she was interrupted when Tonks entered the room.

"How's it going?," the younger woman asked cheerily.

Bellatrix shot Harry a look. "He managed to create false memories," she explained quietly. Harry noticed that Tonks looked impressed. "But it is still taking most of his concentration. How is the muggle?"

Tonks had some experience with healing magic from her Auror training and she had told them this morning that Sarah would not be able to survive the _cruciatus_ curse much longer in the state she was currently in. Therefore Tonks had insisted that they first practiced on the false memories only.

"I have given her a healing potion," Tonks informed them. "She's dozing off now every second minute or so. I guess there were still drugs in her system that somehow reacted with the potion."

"It doesn't matter," Bellatrix dismissed it. "What about her state? Will she be able to take the _cruciatus _or not?"

Tonks smiled slyly. "She will."

"Good," Bellatrix simply said. "You know what to do, Potty, don't you?"

"I didn't forget it, Trixy," Harry replied casually.

In a matter of seconds Bellatrix had seized him by his neck. "Ever call me that again, Potter, and I swear, I'll break your neck with my bare hands!," she snarled furiously.

"What?," Harry said innocently. "It's not that bad. It's..."

Bellatrix gave him a hard push and he stumbled through the room while Tonks was almost choking with laughter.

"Just get over there and torture the muggle bitch, so we're done with this fucking bullshit...," Bellatrix barked. "And you," she assaulted her niece and bopped her hard in the side. "_Stop laughing!_"

"_Ouch. _Oh come on, it was funny...," Tonks pouted.

Harry walked over into the other room. "Can we start now or what?," he asked with mock boredom.

Bellatrix glanced darkly at Tonks before she joined Harry. "Let's get over with it."

Sarah was more or less lying on one of the couches, still blindfolded and halfway asleep.

"_Crucio,_" Harry intoned once again as he pointed his wand at Sarah's sleeping form.

With a high pitched scream she woke up and rolled from the couch landing painfully on the floor where she writhed in pain. This time Harry was prepared for the extraordinary sensation. Instead of giving in to the immense pleasure he stayed alert for Bellatrix's presence in his mind.

When he felt her enter his mind he started to show her the same false memories as he had before and added a few new ones. It worked out better than he had expected. But when she started to search for his older memories... memories of his last term in school he hesitated. Theoretically he should show her the real memories... That was when she already had noticed his Occlumency shields.

Harry sighed in frustration and his curse faltered. Dammit.

Bellatrix looked at him, an unusual witty gleam in her eyes. "You know... you should try to shield only a part of your memories... the part that Dumbledore isn't allowed to see."

He had never before tried to shield only _a part _of his mind but he had to admit that it made sense.

* * *

Tonks watched patiently as Harry tried to follow Bella's vague instructions. She had learned basic Occlumency in her Auror training but she had to admit it was not a lesson she had excelled in. Therefore she was of very little help to Harry considering this particular ability.

But she had an idea. "What about you try to imagine your mind as a place? Put all the memories you don't want to be seen in the room you lock," Tonks suggested as Bella had once again discovered his Occlumency shields.

Both the other two hesitated.

"That might work," Bella agreed with a slight frown.

Tonks grinned. She liked to think visual and it was always easier for when she could picture something.

Harry nodded as well after giving it a thought. Tonks guessed he would be content as long as it worked.

All in all she was pleased about the entire situation. Harry was doing better than she had expected and she assumed that he would fare well in the future. When she had healed Harry's eyes she had used the opportunity to survey his whole body for any kind of injuries. She had found traces of older healing magic and potions, something that did not surprise her. What had really startled Tonks was that Harry had had the bones in his right arm _regrown _by magic. She had heard of those potions but always wondered when one would be in need of having his bones regrown. Apparently Harry would be able to tell her – whatever had happened to him.

But that was not very troublesome. What had truly unsettled Tonks were the signs of old injuries she had found. There were traces of bruising left – something that was not too uncommon – but also clear proof of rape. Some of those injuries were not so old and Tonks did not need to be a genius to tell that Harry had been raped during his summer holidays.

When she had first met Harry Potter she had known that living with the Dursley family was not a picnic for him. Seeing his room, his frail form and the lack of photos of him in the house was enough for her to know that he must have been severely neglected.

Tonks had not told Harry when he had asked her but another reason why she had left the Ministry and the Order had been him. She could put up with the Ministry and Dumbledore not trusting her, it was not like they were the only people in her life. It was not very cheery for her in her job but she did not depend on their appreciation. What Tonks could not stomach was how Dumbledore treated Harry. The headmaster was supposed to protect him and Tonks could not believe that Dumbledore did not know about how Harry was treated. And even if he did not know he would not have proved to be very caring.

She had hoped after that that Harry would realize he was being played. She had been quite surprised that Harry had now changed his allegiance all of a sudden and she wondered what the reason had been.

Tonks could see now that things would go a lot better for Harry – should he survive the war.

_Should we win_, she thought. Tonks did not have general doubts but she was cautious. While with the Aurors she had seen how a secure situation could turn into a disaster within seconds.

She wished she could be as optimistic about her own life as she was about Harry's. Tonks watched Bella. Her other reason why she had changed sides. It was wicked but ever since she had seen a picture of her aunt when she was a young girl – her mother had kept old photographs from her childhood days – she had been infatuated with her aunt.

When she had heard of Bella's escape from Azkaban she could not help herself any longer. She had had to meet this mysterious woman.

Bella's eyes where closed, her body relaxed as she surveyed Harry's mind. She looked so peaceful like that, so _young._ Sometimes it was hard to forget that she was only 35. The experiences she had already made in her life showed in her eyes, there always was a slightly haunted expression in them, something that others often viewed as insanity.

Tonks suspected that the information Harry had drawn form her were not very safe in his mind. She had no idea how her aunt would react to Tonks' attraction. She was aware of Bella's fanatic devotion to the Dark Lord. She wondered if Bella would still be able to love someone else, to care about someone else. It was quite obvious that she did not love Rodolphus. Not that Tonks minded.

She had met Rodolphus only a few times and quickly realized that his and Bella's marriage only existed theoretically. Tonks did not like Rodolphus, he had something about him that unsettled her more than any other person ever had unsettled her.

His brother Rabastan was quite different though and Tonks liked him better. He was much more open minded and appeared to be calmer and more amiable than his brother. Well as calm and as amiable as you can when you spent 14 years in prison. But Tonks had the feeling that deep down he was more cunning and dangerous than Rodolphus and even Bella for that matter.

"You got it," Bella's voice snapped Tonks out of her thoughts. She could see the relief on both Bella's and Harry's face. "If you keep up the shields like this Dumbledore won't notice anything. Finally."

Tonks stood up from the couch. Her back hurt. She had lost the feeling for time while being deep in thought.

Harry looked slightly exhausted, his face paler than usual. Bella on the other hand seemed to be satisfied. Despite what Bella had said Tonks did not know what to think about the relationship between Bella and Harry. She was not sure what motivated Bella. Sometimes Tonks suspected it to be fascination... but she could never be certain.

The muggle woman Tonks had brought here was lying on the floor.

"She passed out again," Tonks informed them.

"Can you wake her up?," Bella asked with a hint of impatience.

Tonks bent down next to the woman. She was breathing very lightly. She lifted the woman's lids up. Her pupils were wide, showing a lack of response to exterior stimuli.

Tonks looked at Bella. "I could wake her up. But it would not take long until she fainted again. She is physically exhausted to an extreme degree. It would be better to wait at least 12 hours," she said seriously.

Bella looked displeased with this but nodded. "Then we will wait. We have still a little time left at least," she decided. Then she smiled somewhat nastily to Harry. "I would not want for Potter that one of his lessons is omitted."

* * *

Ginny had managed to talk her mother into letting her visit Luna this afternoon. She had efficiently outwitted her mother's argument ("After all you're seeing her in two days!") by claiming that they had last minute schoolwork to do ("We are supposed to write an essay for Professor Sprout..."). Her mother had not been particularly pleased that she had not done this assignment earlier but she could not say 'no'.

Luna had visited her a few times as well over the summer but they preferred to stay with Luna's dad than under the watchful eye of Molly Weasley. Then, of course there had been their memorable meeting at Fortescue's ice cream parlor...

Ginny had thought a lot about Harry since then. She could not help but to be seriously worried about him. Ginny had not liked his decision to go with Tom... with You Know Who. What troubled her, too, was the question: what happened to him at his relatives house that he preferred to stay with the murderer of his parents? She could not answer this question but every time she thought about it, chills run down her back.

Their meeting in Diagon Alley had caused Ginny to think about her first year again, something she had tried to suppress in the past. For her her first year had been filled with angst and sorrow and her only friend had been a book.... She remembered being afraid of going insane about that fact, but Tom's presence had been too soothing to stay away from. Ginny was sure that he would have the least problems to make Harry feel the same as he had Ginny. Her first year had been like a weird dream... a dream that turned into a nightmare. Ironically the peak of the nightmare had not been almost dying, it had not been Tom draining her life, it had been _surviving_.

It had taken her some time to stomach the shame she had felt afterward, the silent accusation in her fellow students faces and the mistrust of her parents, especially the coolness her mother had shown her.

Now she felt similar to her first year, her world was falling apart, torn by war and hatred. She felt she would have to decide soon but she did not know what to do, what to choose.

Fortunately this time she had someone who gave her strength, she was not as alone anymore as in her first year. Silently she snuggled closer to Luna.

The girls were lying on Luna's huge bed and looked up at the ceiling which Luna had painted during the holidays. Ginny loved it, Luna was so creative and talented in painting.

"What are you thinking about,?" asked Luna curiously who had felt her move.

"Harry," Ginny answered thoughtfully.

"You don't need to worry, Gene," Luna said seriously.

Ginny sighed. "But I do," she whispered. "I don't understand... What has happened to him? What is happening to us? I am afraid, Lu. Last year everything seemed so easy, so uncomplicated... what has happened?"

Luna sat up slightly to look at Ginny. Her huge blue eyes were sad.

"Nothing changed," Luna spoke. "What you know has changed, Gene. Last year I Saw..."

Ginny immediately saw the anguish in her beloved's eyes. She took Luna's hand and squeezed it tightly. "What did you See? Psht, you can tell me...," she tried to comfort Luna.

"Seers are supposed to stay neutral but I couldn't let that happen...," Luna started. "I Saw a possible future, Ginny."

Ginny stomach started to turn. She had a very bad feeling. "What happened?," she asked wearily.

"The light won but...," there was a deep pain in Luna's eyes as she looked at Ginny. "_Dumbledore __destroyed Harry's soul._"

Ginny could only stare in shock.

"There was an other possibility," Luna continued on. "The dark won... there were so many deaths..."

Ginny shook her head in horror. "Did any of us... survive?," she asked carefully.

Luna seemed to freeze. She slowly shook her head.

"Oh Merlin," Ginny breathed as she hugged Luna tightly who was trembling in her arms.

"Is that why? Why you encouraged Harry to change sides?" Ginny asked, understanding somewhat more now. "Will it change?"

Luna nodded hesitantly. "I cannot tell for sure what will happen now... We will all have to make sacrifices."

"Isn't that what life always is like?," Ginny sighed, still horrified.

Luna stared intensely at her. "No," she said. "Nothing compares to what is about to come..."

Ginny stared up at the ceiling, speechless. The paintings were truly beautiful but she had no idea what it actually was that Luna had painted.

* * *

Bella still was … it was hard to define really. First of all she was surprised if not stunned. The same time she was amazed to be true to herself. Then again she was almost amused. But all in all – and there was no way to deny it – she was _shocked._

_Potter _had definitely shocked Bella. Something she had expected to never happen. Had she not seen it herself she would have deemed it a lie. Because Potter had excelled in the challenge she had set for him. In retrospect maybe she could have expected it when she had witnessed his _cruciatus _curse.

That should have made her reconsider her opinion on Potter. But she had not. And now the truth had hit her over the head. Bella could not help but feel slight respect for Potter now. He was intelligent and creative – almost cunning and he would be of great use in the war. But Bella also had to personally accredit what he had done. It had been quite interesting how he had played on the muggles emotions. It had been a while since she had seen real quality in torture.

And that it was Potter of all people who would be the torturer...

_..."Listen. I have talked to them...," Potter had said to the muggle in a most desperate voice. Bella and Tonks had surveyed them but only he knew they were there thanks to their _desillusionment_ charm."They said they would let us go if..."_

"_If what? What? Just tell me!!," the woman had cried, her pathetic hope audible in her tone. "I will do it."_

_Potter had sighed and Bella had started to wonder how long he had been working on this. There was clearly a certain level of trust between them._

"_You will have to do a few things...," he had said wearily and looked at the muggle. She urged him to go on. Instead of answering he showed her a long knife._

_The muggle had stared at it with huge fearful eyes. Then she had breathed deeply. "They will let us go?," she had asked, suddenly calm. Potter nodded. "What do I have to do?"_

_Bella had thought to have seen a brief flicker of triumph on Potter's face but it was gone too fast for her to really identify what it was._

"_They... they want you to hurt yourself... Cut patterns in your skin...," he had said weakly, giving a convincing image of someone who could not stomach injuries and blood._

_The muggle had closed her eyes. After a few moments she had reopened them and taken the knife from Potter._

_With shaking hands she had started to draw patterns on her skin flinching in pain. Bella had watched impassively as silent tears had run down the muggle's cheeks as the woman had cut in her own flesh. She had started with her arms which had quickly been covered in blood that run from manifold wounds. The woman had not cut deeply but it had naturally been bleeding anyways._

_When she had started to cut in her leg she had not been able to take it any longer and had stopped, sobbing. Bella had not missed the cruel fascination on Potter's face that had shown there all the while, the satisfaction. For the first time Bella had wondered what might have happened to the boy that he would feel so much hatred. Surely the golden boy had lived a perfect life, free of sorrows (besides Her Lord wanting to kill him)? It had seemed she had been mistaken._

"_Do I have to go on?," the muggle had pleaded. "I can't... I can't any longer."_

"_Do you want to live?," Potter had asked her, his tone suddenly completely changed. It had not been caring any longer, instead it had been mocking._

_Bella had been able to see the muggle's eyes dilate in realization. Her head had shot up to look at Potter._

"_You...," she had whispered, horrified. "You never were on my side... you never wanted to help me..."_

"_Go on," Potter had snarled. "If you want to live."_

_After that the woman had flinched considerably and followed his instructions with even more eagerness. Bella had known that the muggle had reached a point were her survival instinct had kicked in. She had not been defiant, neither had she blamed Potter for his betrayal. She had not cared about anything but that there was the slightest chance for her to survive._

_Against all ration the woman had viciously cut in her own skin having caused Bella to marvel at the phenomenon of the human living will._

_Finally Potter had looked over to where he had known she had stood. "Did this convince you?," he had asked._

_Bella's mind had been blank. There had been no response in her head to give. So instead she had ended the _desillusionment_ charm and simply nodded. There had been nothing to say. He had convinced her._

"And now, Potter, kill her," Bella said calmly. They were all still in the same room, Dora and herself visible now. The muggle sat on the floor, the bloodied knife still in her hands.

"What?," she screamed at those words. "You said I was going to live if I did what you told me!"

Potter smiled at this. "Well," he said, "I lied."

The woman then only stared up at him and viciously shook her head.

"I think you know how it works," Bella calmly went on like nothing had happened. "Just concentrate."

Potter thoughtfully looked at her, then he nodded once.

"_Avada Kedavra," _he said impassively as he pointed his wand at the muggle. She fell over, obviously dead.

Bella, Potter and Dora stared at each other. Theoretically the third curse was supposed to be the hardest but then again...

"You know, Harry," Dora said, breaking the silence, "You have to do something about your eyes."

"What about them?," Potter asked confused. Bella frowned.

Dora titled her head as she surveyed Potter. "They look like they're frozen over."

* * *

**Okay, this was rather short but it was only the last days of Harry's holidays. Next chapter will deal with Harry's reunion with his 'friends'... featuring some of the DA, Draco and his lot, Horace Slughorn and Romilda Vane! Considering the word count, there may also be a glimps of our dear Minister for Magic...**

**Please review!!**

**THEY MAY NEED HIM BUT HARRY IS ALWAYS AN AFTERTHOUGHT. HE CHANGED SIDES AND HE IS STILL AN AFTERTHOUGHT. This is part of a review that I got for the last chapter. (Thank you, Peruser!) It really made me think. Is Harry an afterthought? It seems like that at parts... Be assured that Harry will NOT END UP AS AN AFTERTHOUGHT. Neither will he always have to share. I wanted to point this out for everyone. The situation right now is just quite chaotic... but Voldemort will/does not only care about him because he is a horcrux. Okay I have ranted enough...**

**EDITED 20/01/10**


	12. The Fickle Grace Of Society

**A/N: I'm very sorry it took me so long to update. I had so much work to do for school but now I've almost graduated and more time again. I really missed writing. I changed my penname from Lady Cathy to Bizarre Dreamscapes.**

**I can only promise to update more frequently in the future.**

**Disclaimer: Parts of this chapter are quote from HBP, such as parts of the conversation during the lunch with Slughorn or the Slytherins' chat.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**The Fickle Grace Of Society**

On September 1rst Harry Potter arrived at King's Cross station like all the other students did as well. This year only his aunt had accompanied him to London, not his whole family like the years before. What no one knew though was that the woman accompanying him was in no way his aunt although she looked absolutely identical to Petunia Dursley.

"There we are, boy," the lean woman said rather unfriendly.

"Thanks for driving me to London, aunt Petunia," Harry said meekly. He could feel the stare of other students in his back, those who also entered platform 9 ¾ via the muggle station.

"Listen up, boy," his aunt reminded him. "Your uncle and I will not tolerate much more of the trouble you're causing..." She leaned closer in on him and whispered, so that no one else could hear:

"Take care, Harry. I mean it. Don't get in trouble."

Harry nodded. "I'll try," he whispered back. "Be careful yourself."

"Course," she answered. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Bye, Tonks," Harry breathed.

"Until next summer, Harry," 'aunt Petunia' said.

Harry nodded hastily and hurried over to the barrier while Tonks stared after him. Then she turned on her heel and walked away, not looking back at her 'nephew'. It was time to get out of this disgusting guise.

In meanwhile Harry entered platform 9 ¾ pushing his baggage cart casually through the barrier between platform 9 and 10.

The moment he entered the platform he was followed by whispers and stares. Although the nature of this attention had changed since last term, when it had been mostly hatred and schadenfreude and now was awe and respect, he still hated it. Harry ignored his onlookers as he pushed through the crowd. They aloofly reminded him of gaping fish. Now it would be so much more satisfying to see their eyes filled with fear and disdain. He had nothing to give them and they had no right to expect anything.

"Harry, mate! We're over here," someone yelled as Harry was walking towards the red Hogwarts Express.

Harry turned to the voice recognizing it as the one of his 'best friend' Ron. The tall red head was waving at him, looking over the crowd. Harry briefly waved back and made his way to Ron.

Ron was standing with his parents, Ginny and of course Hermione who had spent her summer with them.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione called. "Good to see you again. How was the rest of your holidays?"

Harry smiled weakly as he watched them through his glasses which now consisted of window glass since he could not see anymore through optical galsses. "It was okay," he said dismissively, showing that he clearly did not want to talk about it. Hermione however was about to continue the conversation but Mrs. Weasley forestalled her.

"Harry, my dear!," she smiled warmly at him. "I'm sorry you could not stay with us this summer. I hope you still had nice holidays." She looked a little doubtful at this statement however.

"Yes, I had, Mrs. Weasley," Harry repeated. "As I was telling Ron and Hermione..."

But Mrs. Weasley had turned to the train. "It's about time, kids."

"You were late, mate," Ron muttered to him. "You don't want to miss the train again, do you?"

Harry shrugged. "There was a lot of traffic in London today and my aunt got in a traffic jam."

"Traffic jam?," asked Ron confused.

"It's got nothing to do with marmalade, Ron," Hermione said disapprovingly, interpreting his mimic. "Really, you should take muggle studies, I've told you so often..."

"Get on the train, now," Mrs. Weasley rushed them.

They stopped talking and followed her instruction.

"Have a good year, kids," Mr. Weasley said as farewell.

"Yes, and be careful," Mrs. Weasley pleaded. She quickly hugged all of them. Harry stood stiff as she did so. He felt uncomfortable at the close physical contact, wanting to lean away from it knowing it was anything but genuine.

The moment passed and they were on the train only moments before it departed.

"Ron and I need to go to the Prefects' meeting," Hermione informed Harry.

"Do we?," asked Ron in an unmotivated manner.

"Yes, we do, Ronald, and you are not going to skip it," Hermione chided strictly. "We'll see you later."

"Okay," said Harry. He did not mind at all.

"What about finding a compartment?," he asked Ginny.

Ginny bit her lip. "I'm actually supposed to meet up with Dean," she told him.

Harry sighed. "Forget about Dean for a moment, Ginny," he said. "Why are you doing this? You don't have to pretend."

"You don't understand, Harry," Ginny answered, looking him in the eye. "I can never live up to my families expectations."

"But you don't have to," Harry argued, indeed not understanding her. "They've treated you badly and besides you're your own person, Ginny. You should decide about your life and not them."

"Harry, it's not that bad. Not compared to...," Ginny broke off. "I'm bound to them by blood."

_Not compared to what happened to you. _He just knew that she wanted to say that but chose to ignore it. "By blood... what does that mean? There are bounds much deeper. Blood means nothing. Look at my relatives, my aunt and uncle. They're my blood but they're nothing to me... Your parents aren't the only family you have, Ginny. What about Fred and George? They'll be there for you. Then there's Luna. And I'll be here, too," Harry argued.

Ginny opened her mouth and closed it again. Then she said: "Harry, I'm so worried about you. Are you sure you're doing the right thing? I mean..."

Harry crossed his arms. He did not like the way she was speaking. "I've made my decision," he said coldly.

Ginny seemed taken aback by his tone but nodded. "If that's what you want. But still... promise me to be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"It won't," Harry answered. "Now why don't you forget about Dean for a moment? Let's find an empty compartment, huh?"

Ginny nodded, dismissing their former subject. She half-grinned at him. "Okay, okay... Harry, you really have a way to see things positive."

He snorted. "You really think so? I didn't notice."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Sure. I mean what would others have done in your situation? They wouldn't do half as well."

Harry frowned. He found that a strange way to see things.

"Nah, forget it," Giny brushed it off. "What about quidditch? Hey, watch out!"

She scowled at couple of students who had roughly brushed past her in the full corridor.

"What do you think who'll be captain this year?" Ginny asked.

Harry cursed under his breath. He had almost forgotten about _that_. Before he could answer, however, a familiar face appeared in front of them.

"Hey, Harry, Ginny! How was your summer? We're searching for an empty compartment...," it was Neville, Luna in tow.

"Hello," the blond girl greeted airily.

Harry and Ginny smiled at them and greeted and together they shoved through the crowd to the compartments further back. There they found an empty one and dropped in it.

Harry quickly sat down next to Neville letting Luna and Ginny sit next to each other. Casually Luna took the latest copy of the _Quibbler_ out and started reading it upside down, apparently not taking notice of anyone anymore.

Ginny suppressed a grin and Neville did not pay it any heed.

"So how was your summer?," Neville repeated his question.

"Exhausting," Ginny sighed in mock-annoyance. "Bill invited Fleur Delacour over to us... you know, Nev, the Beaubatons champion?"

Neville nodded in awe. "Fleur? How so?"

Ginny grinned and pouted. "You can bet on that reaction... men," she muttered and Neville blushed slightly. "Well, Bill and Fleur want to get married, so he brought her over... Mum hates her, Ron worships her and Hermione was jealous... That's what I meant when I said exhausting."

"How are they anyways? Ron told me they left?," Harry asked Ginny, remembering her brother's words. He had never felt the pull of Fleur's Veela charm but he had grown to like her during the Triwizard Turnament.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they had a fight with mum and then Bill left shouting they didn't need our parents' approval to marry... I wrote him a letter, telling I'll forever hate him if the marriage is done without me." She sounded rather satisfied at that. "Fleur answered promising me that I could be bridesmaid."

"Hm, it sounds like you are relieved that school has started again," Neville commented.

Ginny shrugged. "It wasn't that pleasant at home."

"What about you, Harry?," Neville turned to Harry.

"Nothing special," Harry said. "I'm glad holidays are over. And you?"

"It was nice," Neville said. "Uncle Algie visited for two weeks... but it was good, actually. He was really impressed with, you know, what we did at the Ministry..." Neville blushed and cleared his throat. He knew that Harry had not taken the death of Sirius Black very well last year. "We went to St. Mungo's to see my parents..." Neville sounded very sad at those words. "You won't believe how many people were there. They're panicking, lots of people go to St. Mungo's to have checked if they were subjected to Dementors or an Inferius... as if you would not notice that when it happens."

Harry regarded Neville as the latter spoke. He had always liked the other boy and felt as if they were somewhat similar especially after he had found out about the fate of Neville's parents. Last year he had taken much interest and pride in Neville's proceedings in the DA and of course he had been thankful towards him for believing his claims about Voldemort's return. Neville had been one of the few who did not abandon him or mark him as a crazy, lying attention-seeker.

Now, he was not sure how to feel towards Neville. Harry had no wish for him to be harmed but he would not step out of his way for Neville either. He could not imagine that Neville would ever understand his decision, not after what Bella had done to his parents – something that sure was worse than death. Harry could not help himself, his thoughts always returned to what Dumbledore had said about the prophecy – the fake prophecy – in summer. That it could also have meant Neville.

_Where would that leave me now? _It was hard for Harry to imagine how his life would have worked out had Voldemort chosen Neville. Although he had spent quite a part of his life wondering about a reality in which his parents were still alive he knew deep down that there was no real answer to that question. It was pointless now anyways since they were dead... and he was going to live forever (or at least theoretically). He still could not wrap his mind around _that fact_. But then again Harry had masses of time left to think about it.

"Harry! Harry," Ginny was saying.

"Huh?," Harry's head snapped up. "Sorry, I was deep in thought. What did you say?"

"I figured," she commented bemusedly. "As I was asking you before what do you think, who'll be quidditch captain this year? Angelina graduated after all."

"You know," Harry started. With all the things that had happened over the summer he had totally forgotten about that. "Dumbledore made me captain."

Ginny looked really surprised at that. "But that's great, Harry!," she exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Congratulations," Neville said.

"Thanks," Harry said halfheartedly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Ginny. But we only saw each other so briefly and it totally skipped my mind."

Harry was not sure what to make of his new position in the team. Quidditch was a team sport, he _had enjoyed_ it, because of flying and because of his team. But now he wanted nothing less than to spend more time than necessary with his 'friends'. Ron had good chances of getting in the team again, and besides he had not forgotten how the other Gryffindors had turned their backs on him when the Ministry had deemed him a liar.

On the other hand it would seem very odd if he dropped out now and Dumbledore would not be the only one to ask him a lot of questions about his sudden, unexpected decision.

Ginny nodded at his words. "After all we met in Fred and George's shop, it's easy there to forget about everything else," she said lightly.

"Oh, I've been there, too, in the holidays," Neville said in amazement. "It's really great."

Ginny beamed. "Yeah, they put loads of work into it."

Neville nodded. "It was absolutely worth it." Then he turned to Harry. "Are you going to continue the DA?," he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Don't think so. It's purpose was getting rid of Umbridge and providing some real DADA lessons. If Scrimgoeur isn't as brainless as Fudge he'll let Dumbledore hire a proper Defense teacher."

"Dad says Scrimgeour is a sworn enemy of the Dark Arts like Mad Eye or Barty Crouch," said Ginny.

"He's a vampire," Luna added all of a sudden.

"Huh? Who's a vampire?" asked Neville confusedly.

"Scrimgeour of course," Luna explained in an isn't-that-obvious-voice.

"Well, then I hope he keeps his people from joining Voldemort," Harry commented dryly.

"Oh no," Luna disagreed. "He was expelled from his clan."

By that time Neville obviously realized that he'd been staring at Luna. He cleared his throat and reached for his trunk mumbling about checking something.

Luna in meantime had returned to reading the _Quibbler_.

"Hey, Ginny, there you are, hi Harry, Neville, Luna," the compartment door was opened by Dean. "I thought we were going to meet up?"

"Um...yeah and I searched for you, Dean, but it was so full I just couldn't find you," Ginny said evasively.

"Doesn't matter," Dean dismissed it. "Are you coming?"

Ginny briefly glanced at Luna before she nodded.

"I'll see you later," she murmured as she left.

Harry gave her a pointed look but was ignored.

"I didn't know that Ginny is together with Dean now," Neville said.

When Luna did not react Harry answered: "They got together at the end of last term or in the summer holidays, I think."

Neville nodded.

It did not take long until the compartment door was opened again. This time it were Ron and Hermione.

"I'm glad that's over," Ron sighed dramatically before he let himself fall in Ginny's now empty seat.

"Ron, our Prefect duties are very important," Hermione said disapprovingly and sat down next to Harry.

_Is arguing all they can do?_ wondered Harry. This impression had started last year when Ron and Hermione's constant picking on each other had stressed Harry's nerves while they were already unsound.

"The term has not even started and I'm already supposed to work?" complained Ron. Then he looked around. "Hey Harry, where's Ginny?"

"She left with Dean a few moments ago," Harry answered casually.

Ron grumbled unfriendly in response to that.

"Ron," Hermione said tentatively. "Ginny is old enough to decide who she wants to be together with. Maybe you should leave it to her."

Not waiting for an answer she went on, turning to Harry.

"I've just seen Cho, Harry," she remarked casually. "She seemed pretty upset about something."

_That's something new_, thought Harry sarcastically. Cho was _always _upset about something.

"Really?" Harry asked only faintly interested. "I haven't seen her yet."

"The father of her friend Marietta was killed this summer," told Neville them. "I saw it in the _Prophet_."

Hermione gasped in shock. "That's terrible," she said. "I know she betrayed us to Umbridge but still..."

So Hermione was sorry for that stupid bitch but not for him? Harry would have very much liked to laugh at the irony of the situation.

"So Cho's still friends with Marietta?" he asked stiffly.

"I don't get it either, mate," Ron said, while Hermione eyed them resignedly, probably due to there lack of understanding for girls' feelings. "I mean after all she betrayed us... I wouldn't be friends with her anymore."

Interesting that Ron thought so.

"Did they at least get the people who killed Marietta's father?" Harry asked Neville in order to feign concern.

Neville shook his head.

Ron snorted. "They always get away with it. Just like Narcissa Malfoy," he said. "I bet ickle Draco's really gleeful bout that. I thought that his father's imprisonment would put a damper on his arrogance but he still struts around like he owns the place."

"What did you expect, man?" answered Harry. "We know Malfoy."

"Yeah, right, I guess he'll always be like that," agreed Ron.

"He did seem particularly happy about something," Hermione suddenly injected. "Ron's right, it is kind of odd considering they sent his father to Azkaban."

"He won't be happy much longer," Luna spoke up. "If the Ministry makes use of the things they breed in the Department of Mysteries-"

"The Ministry doesn't breed anything in the Department of Mysteries," interrupted Hermione fiercely.

"There were those brains that attacked my," pointed Ron out.

"They could hardly be used in battle against Death Eaters," said Hermione.

A year ago Harry would have dismissed Luna's words but now... she was a Seer so it was natural for her to know things that others didn't. Then again there were many things that were absolutely wrong which the _Quibbler _reported about, like Sirius in reality being lead singer of the band _the Hobgoblins._ All of those seemingly wrong stories Luna quoted form the_ Quibbler_ were a good way to disguise the fact that some of her knowledge was what she had Seen. But how should Harry know what was true and what wasn't?

"You ask him."

"No, you."

"I'll do it."

A group of fourth year Gryffindor girls was standing outside of their compartment, discussing and giggling.

Then one of them opened the compartment door. She had dark eyes, long black hair and a prominent chin. Her eyes sparkled with self confidence and wit.

"Hi, Harry," she said after she had quickly looked around in the compartment. "I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane. I wanted to ask you if you'd like to come and sit with us instead of _them._" When she said the last word she meaningfully glanced around in the compartment again.

Neville and Ron had blushed at those words, the former in a faint pink, the latter in a bright red.

Luna had apparently not taken notice of the conversation while Hermione had narrowed her eyes in offense.

Harry was tempted to take Romilda's proposal just to dump Ron and Hermione but that would not have worked well at all with his plan to pretend that nothing had changed.

So he said: "Those are my friends."

Romilda's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, okay," she answered. "Maybe an other time, then."

"People expect you to have cooler friends," said Luna deadly serious when Romilda had left.

_Too bad for them, life does not always meet up to one's expectations, _thought Harry. Out loud he said: "You _are _cool."

"That's right! I can't believe it, Harry, she's never spoken a word to you and now that she thinks that your the Chosen One she's suddenly interested?" Ron sounded genuinely outraged but Harry knew that it was jealousy that spoke out of his words.

"That's how people are," Hermione agreed. "Don't let yourself be bothered by it."

"It's a shame we don't know what the prophecy said," Ron added.

In the beginning of the summer Harry had planned on telling Ron and Hermione about the prophecy. But even if he had still wanted to talk about the prophecy he would not have found any opportunity to do so during the holidays.

Even though he was now aware that the prophecy was not valid Harry upheld his decision to share its content with his two 'best friends'. After all he did not know that the prophecy was a fake, right?

Then the compartment door slid open again. A nervous third year girl stepped in.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," she announced and held out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon.

Perplexed Harry and Neville took them.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

"In invitation," answered Harry.

The parchment read:

_Harry,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn_

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville who seemed rather surprised about the invitation.

"Probably the new Defense teacher," Harry guessed. "After all Umbridge was fired. I suppose we should see what he wants."

"Yeah, right," agreed Neville. "Wonder why he wants to see me."

Harry shrugged and grabbed his bag before they left their compartment.

The corridor was still filled with students and it was not easy to go anywhere.

As Neville and he pushed their way towards compartment C the number of other students staring at him had increased since he had entered the train.

When they reached compartment C they realized that they were not the only ones that Professor Slughorn had invited.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, good to see you, good to see you," they were greeted by a man who could only be Professor Slughorn.

Slughorn had a bald head and a shiny silver mustache. His noticeable belly was covered in velvet and all in all his attire was rather pompous. He faintly reminded Harry of a big walrus.

Slughorn gestured for them to sit down and they took the only two empty seats, positioned opposite of each other.

Neville looked wary, still unsure why he was here.

Harry in meantime glanced around at the other guests. There was Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin from their year, two seventh years Harry did not know and surprisingly Ginny. As their eyes met Ginny shrugged barely noticeable and Harry slightly raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Now do you know everyone, Harry, I can call you Harry, right?" Slughorn asked him and Harry nodded. "Splendid. Here is Blaise Zabini, in your year, of course..."

Zabini gave no sign of recognition as did neither Harry nor Neville.

"This is Cormac McLaggen, maybe you've come across each other-? No?"

McLaggen, a large, wire-haired youth, raised a hand and Harry and Neville nodded back at him.

"-and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether-?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous looking, gave a strained smile.

"-and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.

Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville from behind Slughorn's back.

"Well, now this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cosily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch, the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on Liquorice Wands, a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... pheasant, Belby?"

From Slughorn's words Harry guessed that he may have been teacher at Hogwarts before. Of course he could be referring to his own school days when he had said he remembered the Liquorice Wands but that would be very long ago, Harry figured.

This whole meeting seemed very peculiar to Harry. Everyone who was attending it seemed to be related to someone famous or be special in some way – besides Ginny, why she was here Harry could not figure out.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Harry and Neville about Belby for example. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

It seemed as if Harry was right, there was indeed something interesting about everyone present.

"_Anapeo_," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby who was choking on the pheasant he had taken from Slughorn.

*Do you know a H.E.F. Slughorn?* asked Harry in his mind. He had not seen Voldemort since the day he had told Harry that Bella was going to teach him the unforgivables.

First there was no reply so Harry showed Voldemort his current situation via their mind link.

*I see.* came the thoughtful answer. *Horace Slughorn is a Potions Master. He used to be teacher at Hogwarts before he retired some time ago.*

*Potions?* asked Harry. *I thought he would teach DADA?*

*Maybe, although I don't think so. He taught Potions when I went to Hogwarts. You will probably see a lot of him this term, Harry. Slughorn collects students.* Voldemort informed him.

*What do you mean, he collects students?*

*He is only interested in students who are talented, famous or otherwise influential. He brings them together and helps them on their way to success. In turn he mostly receives valuable presents or curtsies from his thankful students. He calls them the Slug Club.* Those words sounded amused in Harry's head.

*The Slug Club?* repeated Harry incredulously. *Never mind. If he retired before why is he back now?*

*Probably Dumbledore's doing.* Voldemort assumed. *Although I don't know what he would want to achieve by that. Slughorn was my teacher and not only that, Harry – he was the one who told me about horcruxes. But the destruction of the ring shows that Dumbledore already knows about them...maybe not how many?*

*If Slughorn is that interested in famous students than it should be no problem for me to stay close to him and eventually find out why he returned to Hogwarts.* thought Harry.

*Who else did Slughorn invite?* asked Voldemort.

Harry mentally let him see what he himself was seeing. *Cormac McLaggen, Blaise Zabini, Belby, Neville Longbottom and Ginny.*

*So this is the other prophecy child.* thought Voldemort , sounding intrigued. The others did not seem to interest him.

*Would you have rather chosen him in hindsight?* asked Harry mockingly.

*Him? I hope you aren't serious. Just _look _at him, Harry.* There was so much disgust addicted to this vwords that Harry started to cough heavily in order to hide his laughter. He really could not imagine Neville to be in his current situation. Harry knew that Voldemort loved beautiful things and while his words would have been seen as exaggerated by others since Neville was far from ugly, Harry knew him well enough to understand where he was coming from.

"Aren't you well, Harry?" Slughorn asked worriedly, being interrupted by Harry's coughs.

"It's alright, thanks, Professor," Harry managed to say. "I just got pheseant in my airway."

*I was just asking, would you please _not _try to make me choke?* Harry asked dryly.

Then he remembered what Ron and Hermione had said about Draco Malfoy earlier. *Is there a chance that you gave Draco the Dark Mark so that he could replace his father?*

*Why would you assume that?* Voldemort asked interestedly.

*No real reason.* answered Harry. *It's just the way he behaves. It seems kind of odd while his father is in Azkaban. I always thought they were rather close.*

*That's correct.* commented Voldemort.

*I take that as a yes to my earlier question.* stated Harry.

*If you want.* said Voldemort bemusedly.

In the meantime Slughorn had lost any interest in Belby who had admitted that he had no contact to his uncle Damocles.

Cormac McLaggen seemed to be more of the type of student Slughorn was interested in.

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," McLaggen was bragging. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour – this was before he became Minister, obviously -"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus, too?" Slughorn beamed, now offering a small tray of pies; Harry noticed that Belby was _somehow_ missed out. "Now tell me..."

And so Slughorn went on. He talked to everyone, interviewing them like he had with Belby and McLaggen. Zabini apparently had been invited because of his famously beautiful mother who had married seven times up to now. Her husbands had died under mysterious and most tragic circumstances leaving Mrs. Zabini an enormous fortune.

Neville's interrogation was very unpleasant for the boy since Slughorn had invited him because of his parents who had been very skilled aurors before they were tortured into insanity.

Neville had never spoken about that to anyone in school and except for Harry almost no one had known until the mass break-out from Azkaban last year.

Finally Slughorn turned to Harry.

"And now," he said, shifting in his seat with the air of a compère introducing his star act. "Harry Potter! _Where_ to begin?"

As Slughorn eyed him Harry could not overcome the feeling of being a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant.

"The 'Chosen One' they're calling you now!"

Harry said nothing. He could not openly proclaim to be the Chosen One but he knew that this was a way to win Slughorn over.

"Of course," said Slughorn, "there have been rumors for years... I remember when – well – after that _terrible_ night – Lily – James – and you survived – and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary -"

Zabini's face took an incredulous expression and he gave a tiny, polite cough, showing that he obviously doubted that Harry had any powers beyond the ordinary.

"Yeah Zabini, because you're so talented... at posing," snapped Ginny angrily.

"Oh dear!" Slughorn turned around to Ginny who was scowling at Zabini. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I won't cross her."

While Zabini looked thoroughly unimpressed, Harry inwardly wondered who Ginny had cursed.

"Anyway," said Slughorn and returned his attention to Harry. "_Such _rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the _Prophet_ has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes – but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all."

"With that I must say the _Prophet _was right for once," admitted Harry humbly. "Ginny and Neville were there, too."

"Fascinating," commented Slughorn his eyes darting between Harry, Ginny and Neville. "But the rest of the stories – so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe – this fabled prophecy, for instance -"

"We never heard a prophecy," said Neville, turning geranium-pink at his words.

"That's right," said Ginny affirmatively her eyes resting on Harry. "Neville and I were both there too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the _Prophet_ making things up as usual."

Well, Ginny knew that for sure.

"That's right," said Harry to Slughorn who still looked most interested. "The prophecy got broken in the Ministry and we could not hear its content then."

His words subtly left the possibility that he had heard the prophecy elsewhere. No one seemed to notice but Slughorn slightly narrowed his eyes as he focused on Harry.

"Yes... well... it is true that the _Prophet_ often exaggerates, of course..." Slughorn continued, his attention still on Harry. "I remember dear Gwenog telling me – Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, captain of the Holyhead Harpies -"

And then Slughorn lost himself in anecdotes about illustrious members of the 'Slug Club' he had taught at Hogwarts. Harry listened more or less attentively while McLaggen mostly provided Slughorn with an answer when the latter paused in his monologue. Zabini sometimes said something, too. He and McLaggen where obviously the only ones who knew many of the people Slughorn was talking about. Belby might have fallen asleep, Harry could not tell that for sure, but Slughorn was not paying him attention anymore anyways. Ginny looked quite bored and Neville seemed eager to leave but he did not speak up. Harry assumed that he saw no way to politely excuse himself. Harry did not really care, he was not very keen on returning to Ron and Hermione.

When it began to darken outside, Slughorn looked around.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails. Harry, Blaise – anytime you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

Slughorn was the first to leave and Harry, Neville and Luna followed Zabini out.

"That was strange," sighed Neville.

"Quite so," agreed Harry. "So Ginny, who did you hex, huh?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Zacharias Smith. He kept asking me about what happened at the Ministry and he could not cope with the fact that I wouldn't tell him. Dean looked about to punch him, so I hexed him before Dean would get in trouble. As Slughorn came by I thought I'd get detention but instead he invited me to his lunch."

Harry nodded, then he said: "I'll see you later, okay?"

Neville seemed confused but nodded, Ginny on the other hand opened her mouth to say something but Harry was faster.

"Later, okay? Please Ginny, we can talk then."

"Fine," Ginny agreed and she trotted off together with Neville. The corridors were emptier now than they had been at midday. Hogsmeade station could not be far away anymore and most of students were changing into their robes.

Harry pulled the Invisibility cloak out of his bag and put it on. Then he followed Zabini. Zabini would go back to the Slytherin sixth year's compartment where Malfoy probably was, too.

Voldemort's words had only increased Harry's suspicions that Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark. That in itself would not be very surprising but Voldemort would have a reason for it other than replacing Lucius Malfoy. Draco was still going to school so he would be no use to Voldemort unless Draco had been given a task that had something to do with Hogwarts.

When Zabini had reached the compartment Harry moved as close as he could to Zabini and slipped through the door behind the boy. Unfortunately he was not quick enough and he had to block the door for a moment when Zabini wanted to shut it.

Zabini gave an irritated hiss and slammed the door shut, in the meantime Harry stepped on Zabini's empty seat and hoisted himself up into the luggage rack.

He sincerely hoped that the cloak had covered him all the time in his hurry to leave Zabini's seat which was occupied by the boy only moments after Harry had made it into the luggage rack.

"So, Zabini," said Malfoy who was lying back down across two seats, his head in Pansy Parkinson's lap. "What did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," answered Zabini. "Not that he managed to find many."

To that Harry had to silently agree. Malfoy however was not pleased by the information.

"Who else had he invited?" he demanded. Harry had to grin, obviously Malfoy was jealous that _he_ had not been invited. _It doesn't help to be the son of a convicted criminal._ Harry thought.

"Mc Laggen form Gryffindor," said Zabini.

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry," said Malfoy.

"- someone else called Belby from Ravenclaw -"

"Not him, he's a prat!" said Pansy.

"- and Longbottom, Potter and that Weasley girl," finished Zabini.

Malfoy sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside.

"He invited _Longbottom_?"

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there," said Zabini indifferently.

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?"

Zabini shrugged.

"Potter, of course, obviously he wanted a look at the 'Chosen One'," sneered Malfoy, but he also sounded a tad thoughtful. Harry assumed that Malfoy had not forgotten their encounter in Diagon Alley. "But that Weasley girl! What's so special about her?"

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching Malfoy out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy blood-traitor like her whatever she looked like," said Zabini coldly, and Pansy looked pleased.

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard that I'm on the train, or-"

Harry rolled his eyes under the Invisibility cloak. Malfoy should urgently stop to rely on his father and learn to fight his own battles.

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," said Zabini. "He asked about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

Malfoy was obviously loosing influence in his own house as well. Before Harry had never heard anyone speak to Malfoy like that.

Draco looked angry at first but then he laughed humorlessly.

"Well who cares what he's interested in? What is he when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher." Malfoy yawned ostentatiously. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not."

*My, my, Draco is really stupid. Slughorn can be extremely useful.* Harry heard Voldemort's thoughts.

"What do you mean you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" said Pansy indignantly.

"Well, you never know," said Malfoy with the ghost of a smirk. "I might have – er – moved on to bigger and better things."

Carbbe and Goyle gaped at Malfoy like fish. Even Zabini looked curious now and Pansy stared at Draco, looking dumbfound.

"Do you mean – _Him_?"

Malfoy shrugged.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it... when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't... it'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

*Malfoy all but admitted that you branded him. I think even he's not stupid enough to lie about something like this.* thought Harry.

"And you think _you'll _be able to do something for him?" asked Zabini scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

*Maybe he dies during his task.* Voldemort answered hopefully.

*And then I thought that you would not have to rely on Malfoy dying during his task to get rid of him.* thought Harry sarcastically. *See it positive. Maybe he'll excel himself.*

*He better does.* replied Voldemort darkly.

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," said Malfoy quietly.

_Or you misjudge the situation_, thought Harry.

The rest of the compartment was stunned into silence, although Zabini still looked skeptical.

"I can see Hogwarts," said Malfoy dismissing the subject. "We'd better get our robes on."

Harry did his best not to be discovered as they grabbed their trunks from the luggage rack in order to put their robes on, however he was hit by Goyle's trunk and a small gasp escaped his mouth.

When the train came to a halt Malfoy, said:

"You go on. I just want to check something."

_Great_, thought Harry. He assumed that Malfoy had detected him despite his use of the Invisibility cloak. Maybe he was not that stupid after all.

When Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Pansy had left the compartment Malfoy turned his attention to the luggage rack.

"What exactly do you think you're doing here, Potter?" he asked.

Harry sighed heavily and jumped down form the luggage rack, pulling off his Invisibility cloak.

"Listening to your endearing voice, Malfoy," he said mockingly.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes to slits. "You can't prove anything," he said coldly, knowing what Harry had heard.

"No I can't," agreed Harry lazily. "But maybe the Dark Mark on your arm can?"

"Don't try anything you'll regret afterward," Malfoy said coldly, pointing his wand at Harry.

"It looks almost like you have something to hide," smirked Harry.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" demanded Malfoy threateningly.

Now it was really hilarious to see Malfoy so confused.

"Whatever He has you do," remarked Harry seriously, rising his eyebrows slightly. "You'd better not fail Him."

And that was the second time Harry Potter left behind a very stunned Malfoy. Harry wondered how many times he was going to take it again.

* * *

REVIEW PLEASE!

Okay, I originally wanted to include the Minister in this but 7000 words are enough for now so he will show up next chapter!


	13. Ministry Deals

**A/N:**

**Parts of Dumbledore's speech at the opening banquet are quoted from HBP.**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Ministry Deals**

Harry ignored his onlookers as he entered the Great Hall and joined Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

"Where have you been, mate?" asked Ron lowly. "We were looking for you and Ginny said that you stayed behind after Slughorn's meeting because you wanted to do something? And why don't you have your Hogwarts robes on?"

"I didn't have time to put them on," said Harry quickly. It was true, he and Malfoy had already stayed behind in the train and Harry had not had anymore time to change into the school uniform. "I saw Zabini at Slughorn's meeting. So I remembered what you said about Malfoy and I decided to follow Zabini to the Slytherins' compartment."

"But Harry, that was risky," said Hermione. "What if they had caught you?"

"I was under the Invisibility Cloak," dismissed Harry her question. Why should he tell them that Malfoy had indeed caught him? Draco would not brag about it, that was sure.

"Malfoy's ego is way too big for him to see around it," snorted Ron, not sharing Hermione's concern. "Tell, what did you hear, mate?"

The Great Hall filled with the last students who had reached the castle even later than Harry had. They were all chatting with each other and excitedly informing their friends of the latest news. The atmosphere was not as cheery as it had been in Harry's other years he noticed. There was quite a number of students who were whispering together, rather grave expressions on their faces.

Briefly he caught the eyes of Draco Malfoy who had been looking at him and smirked briefly. Draco's eyes narrowed and he looked away.

Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione to whom his maneuver must have appeared random.

"Malfoy was very happy, just like you said," Harry filled his fake friends in. "He kept hinting that he did not care about finishing Hogwarts anymore and that he had 'bigger and better' things to do."

"Sounds like he was talking about the Death Eaters," commented Hermione interestedly.

Harry had decided to tell them about what he had overheard. It would not do any harm since Draco had not said anything explicit and besides it was almost tradition that they worked against him every school year.

"That's what I thought," nodded Harry therefor.

"What would You Know Who want with Malfoy?" asked Ron incredulously. "He's a little brat."

"That's what Zabini said, too," told Harry Ron. "Although he phrased it differently...," he added with a half-grin.

Hermione shook her head bemusedly and Ron chuckled.

"Malfoy though believes that there is something he can do for Voldemort," finished Harry his report.

Hermione looked doubtful. "He won't be able to do anything as long as he's at Hogwarts. After all Dumbledore is here. Not even You Know Who dared to move against Dumbledore up to now."

"That's right," agreed Ron. "And Malfoy loves to boast. I bet he has never even met You Know Who in his whole life."

"Don't you think it's possible that Voldemort had Draco take his father's place amongst the Death Eaters?" asked Harry.

Ron actually laughed. "Malfoy? A Death Eater? No way, Harry. He's sixteen, for Merlin's sake. He'd only slow them down."

Hermione shook her head as well. "Malfoy is not qualified, Harry. He's sixteen, just like Ron said. He wouldn't be any use to You Know Who. Think about all the things he still has to learn."

Harry frowned at his friends. Inwardly he marveled Draco's exceeding luck, if not even Ron suspected him of anything dubious, who would?

"I don't know what Malfoy could do for Voldemort, but that's not something you joke about, not even Malfoy would-" but before Harry could object further McGonagall announced the sorting. Harry listened to the hat's song and the following sorting of the new first years without much interest. There were several last names on the list that he recognized but no one he knew himself. The new pupils were greeted most enthusiastically by their house mates and older siblings or other relatives.

The meal, as delicious as ever, passed rather uneventful. The Gryffindors who had also been in DA asked Harry what he thought about the events at Piccadilly Circus and Voldemort's supposed changed looks. They soon understood that Harry did not know much about this but nevertheless neither Ron nor Hermione returned to discussing Malfoy.

When the ceremony was over Dumbledore rose in his seat and the students began to fall silent bit by bit.

"The very best of evenings to you!" greeted the old headmaster the students and his colleagues.

Murmurs spread through the hall when the students got a clear look at Dumbledore. The headmaster's right hand was black. Dumbledore was not wearing any glove though instead it appeared that the skin itself had blackened. The hand looked stiff and dead as he spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.

Harry felt a fair amount of schadenfreude as he regarded the injury. But he was also curious as to how it had come by.

"What happened to his hand?" asked Ron surprisedly.

"I don't know," answered Hermione, sounding concerned. "But it appears severe."

"Nothing to worry about," said Dumbledore who was aware of the students attention. "Now to our new students, welcome; to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

Dumbledore's words flowed through the hall as he welcomed the students and announced restrictions and news like he did every year. Harry's eyes surveyed the teachers' table while Dumbledore spoke. Most of the teachers' attention was on Dumbledore, such as McGonagall's. Slughorn instead was looking around in the Great Hall, probably searching the students crowd for familiar faces.

Snape searched and met his gaze. Harry stared expressionlessly at the greasy haired teacher whose mouth twitched in disdain upon the sight of his least favored and most hated student. In the older man's eyes Harry thought to notice an especially mean gleam.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn," Dumbledore was saying. Harry cheered absently, his eyes never leaving Snape. "He is an old colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"_Potions?!_"

The question echoed through the great hall while Harry distinctively felt Snape probe his mind. Just as Bellatrix had taught him he let Snape in but only seemingly so. In this case it was not hard to show Snape the foreboding aversion he was feeling.

"Professor Snape meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice to be heard over the whispering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Snape's lips twisted into an ever so slight grin while the Slytherin table cheered loudly over the fierce whispers of the other students. Harry said nothing as he looked away from Snape.

"What is Dumbledore thinking?" blurted Ron next to him.

Really what _was_ Dumbledore thinking? Maybe he trusted Snape more than Harry had ever assumed. Not because he trusted but because he knew... Harry had always thought that Snape would betray Dumbledore some day but mainly because he despised the man. Now Harry really hoped that Dumbledore was right and Harry would not have to deal with Snape anymore. Honestly, he had stood being on the same side as that man long enough now.

-

Draco Malfoy watched Potter closely as the boy chatted lowly with weasel king and the mudblood. The raven haired boy's words were still ringing in his ears. _You'd better not fail Him._ What the hell?

It was like Diagon Alley. Again Draco was not sure Potter had actually _said that_. It was so surreal, that it was more likely he had hallucinated.

Draco continued to stare a hole in the back of Potter's head as Dumbledore babbled something about security.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is," was the old headmaster saying.

He was furious. He was Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. He would not take this from anyone, let alone Potter. But this promise did still not take him anywhere, just as in Diagon Alley. And was the boy sitting at the Gryffindor table still the same Potter?

It was hard to believe. Their meeting in Diagon Alley could have been a prank on Potter's part. But what he had said on the train? There was no way. The poor, orphaned Potter whose life had been oh so tragic but who was still noble and light, Dumbledore's lackey, surely would not make such jokes about the Dark Lord? Would he?

But the only other explanation was that Potter had either fooled him all the time and was secretly amazingly powerful or he had changed. But no one was the Boy Who Lived, the light's icon, the Golden Boy and had two month later turned into something completely different.

But then again, Harry Potter, the boy Draco had always wondered about, whose friend he had wanted to be and who had turned him down so nonchalantly and he had fiercely disdained after that, was anything but normal.

Although he would not admit it, Draco had read the interview Potter had given in the _Quibbler _last year. If Potter had not been thoroughly lying he had indeed faced the Dark Lord more than once, furthermore, his father had told him about the same. Draco could not help but respect that now.

He glanced at his friends.

"I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately." They looked bored as they lazily glanced up at Dumbledore.

Their respect for him had remarkably decreased since his father had been imprisoned. But what did they know? Nothing! Who were they? He, he was a Malfoy, he was important and he was supposed to follow the Dark Lord. He had met the Dark Lord, something they could merely dream of. And that was why he had to respect Potter. Because he finally knew what it was like to meet the Dark Lord. Because he could only imagine what it was like for someone the Dark Lord wanted dead.

_The Dark Lord had come to Malfoy Manor to mark Draco in the summer holidays, on one of those days his mother had been at a hearing in the Ministry._

_They had been completely alone in the large Manor except for some house-elves whose location went unnoticed to Draco. It was the first time for him to meet the Dark Lord, the person he had heard so many stories about, whom he was expected to serve._

_Draco thought that he had been determined and eager to do so, not only thought but he had been completely determined. But now the fact that his success or failure would decide his family's destiny since his father had fallen from grace was in the forefront of his mind._

_There was no formal meeting, no official marking because the Dark Lord had a very secret task for him, or so he had been told._

_He had been waiting for the Dark Lord and when the man finally arrived and met Draco in one of the Manor's parlors the blond instantly dropped to his knees. His mother who was not happy at all about the situation had instructed him carefully how to act._

_Keeping his eyes towards the floor Draco could hear steps coming closer to him accompanied by the rustling of heavy fabric. But more then that he could practically _feel _the Dark Lord's magic, an unsettling experience Draco had never made before. His instincts screamed at him that he was endangered that he had to run away but instead he remained in place._

_Finally the steps came to a halt in front of him. The silence in the room stretched and Draco was uncomfortably aware of his cold, sweaty hands._

"_Stand up, Draco," said the Dark Lord finally. The voice was different than Draco had imagined. In some way it was much softer than his father's but the silky tone did nothing to ease him._

_Suppressing the urge to rub his clam hands against his robes, he stood._

_His eyes briefly flickered to the Dark Lord's face, almost instinctively. His father had told him about the man before but what Draco saw did not match those stories._

_The Dark Lord's face was young, barely looking older than Draco himself was. But although it surprised Draco to some extend, he barely noticed the features, the silky black hair or the allure of the pale, smooth skin. His attention was captivated by the crimson eyes with their slit pupils, which in return seemed to be burning down to Draco's very soul, seeing everything. Theoretically Draco had learned Occlumency but it did not even come to his mind that he might use it now._

_Instead the Malfoy heir looked down again._

"_Draco Malfoy," drawled the Dark Lord, making Draco shiver. "There is something I need to be done. You are in the position to carry out this task. Are you willing to fulfill it? No matter what the price might be?"_

_Draco swallowed. It was a bunch of rhetorical questions and he knew that. What else could he do but say yes? But he wanted to do this. He wanted to make his father proud and to show he worthy of carrying the Malfoy name._

"_Yes, I am willing, my Lord," he replied passionately, his eyes darting up to the other man's face again._

_The crimson eyes found his and this time he was unable to look away. The other's face was expressionless but in his eyes danced cruel amusement._

"_Then stretch out your left arm," he was instructed._

_Draco hurried to comply, untidily rolling up his left sleeve._

_A cool hand closed firmly around his wrist holding his arm in place. Draco felt his skin prickle like a magical current was running through it at the contact. Then the Dark Lord drew his wand and pressed it in the soft flesh of the crook of Draco's arm._

_Draco did not quite hear the incantation. He stared at his arm as the Dark Mark formed on his left forearm like black ink spreading under his skin. His jaw clenched at the burning pain that jolted through his whole body. He had started to sweat seemingly everywhere under his heavy robes and his face felt damp._

_When the Dark Lord let go of his arm, Draco noticed he was breathing heavily, his knees were trembling, an aftereffect of the pain he had felt in his whole body before and that was now only present in the Dark Mark._

"_What shall I do, my Lord?" asked Draco after taking a deep breath._

_There was a short silence. "Find a way into Hogwarts that circumvents the wards. It must be possible to be used secretly. You have time until next summer to complete this task. That is the first part." The Dark Lord paused. Then he added casually: "The second part is less complicated: kill Dumbledore."_

_Only when the Dark Lord had left and Draco had calmed down somewhat the question occurred to him, how the hell was he supposed to kill Dumbledore?_

Remembering his meeting with the Dark Lord now, Draco felt more confident than he had back then. He had a plan, a solution in mind that should enable him to complete the task. The only problem left was killing Dumbledore and now the attention of Harry Potter.

But in time he would figure out Potter's secret.

* * *

When the opening banquet was over, Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall together with the other Gryffindors. Hermione was fast to run ahead in order to fulfill her Prefect's duties. Ron on the other hand stayed behind with Harry, the red head had no ambition to discipline the students and show the first years the way.

"Really, she's taking this to serious," Ron shook his head over Hermione's behavior. "Not even Percy made such a fuss about being a Prefect." His face darkened at mentioning his renegade brother. "If she goes on like this she'll strain herself just like in third year."

Harry did not give a shit, honestly. Besides, Hermione could have refused the duty and now that she had not she would have to cope and act according to it. Unlike Ron who did not do anything but happily wore the badge.

Harry shrugged. "You know her, mate," he said. "She takes being a Prefect very serious. Don't worry about it. She got by last year and so she'll do this year, too."

"Harry."

They were about to walk up the staircase in direction to the Gryffindor tower when Harry's name was called by a very familiar voice.

Harry suppressed a groan and turned around to see what the headmaster wanted.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," he greeted respectfully.

"I am sorry to bother you on your first day back in Hogwarts, my boy," said the old man. "But there is something I need to talk to you about."

"Of course, headmaster," complied Harry. Turning briefly back to Ron, he said: "I'll see you later."

Ron's eyes darted curiously between Harry and Dumbledore. "Sure, later then," he said.

"Brilliant. If you would accompany me to my office then," prompted Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily.

Harry nodded and left Ron behind, following Dumbledore through the castle. As they walked Harry eyed the old man with a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Sir, if I may be so bold," Harry started, "but what happened to your hand?"

He was really curious. According to Voldemort Dumbledore had destroyed one of the horcruxes this summer. Harry remembered the power of the diary all too well. Had Dumbledore been somehow injured in the process?

"Oh, that, it's nothing serious," said Dumbledore dismissively. "Though a very interesting story, I must say, but far too long to tell you this evening. Another day, my boy. I see you had no time to change into your school uniform?"

Harry tore his gaze away from the blackened hand. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I missed the opportunity to change."

"Yes, the oblivion of youth," Dumbledore said nostalgically. "I bet the luncheon with Professor Slughorn was quite an experience. What do you think of him, Harry?"

"I'm not quite sure what to think, sir," admitted Harry. "He seems very interested in students who are somehow special."

"Curious that you use this word but nevertheless correct, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You will find that Professor Slughorn is highly interested in you especially."

"Who isn't?" muttered Harry.

Dumbledore chuckled. They had almost reached the staircase to his office now.

In front of it Dumbledore hesitated to say the password.

"I must warn you, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Minister Scrimgeour insisted on meeting you and I was unable to send him away. He waits for you in my office."

Harry nodded. "I will have to meet him then some time I suppose. Can as well be now."

"Among other things," Dumbledore went on as if he had not heard Harry's answer, "he is here to inform you of the content of Sirius' will. I understand if you are not yet ready for that."

Harry sighed. Another thing he had forgotten during the holidays. Naturally Sirius would have a will. Since he had already been found innocent posthumously at the end of last term, shortly after the fight in the Department of Mysteries, it had to be expected that the Ministry would respect his will.

"It's okay, headmaster," said Harry. "I'll be able to handle it. I had a lot of time to think about Sirius this summer. I don't think he would have wanted me to dwell on the past."

Dumbledore eyed him thoughtfully. "That is a very wise decision, Harry. I know it is hard to accept the death of a beloved person but it must be done."

Harry stiffened somewhat. Dumbledore was the last person he wanted to talk with about that. He had overcome Sirius' death. It was in the past, a past that was defined through a series of lies, mistakes and manipulations.

"We should not let the Minister wait, Professor," Harry said therefor.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Very well, then." He turned towards the gargoyle. "Licorice Wand."

The gargoyle jumped aside and revealed the moving staircase.

"After you," offered Dumbledore and Harry stepped on the lowest stair, Dumbledore following behind.

Rufus Scrimgeour was indeed waiting in Dumbledore's office. Harry had not yet seen the former head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement who had been made Minister for Magic after Fudge's retirement.

When Harry laid his eyes upon him now, he could immediately tell that Scrimgeour was more of an auror than a politician. He reminded of an old lion, experienced with fighting and ready to bring things into action. But if he was really more competent than Fudge had still to show.

"Mr. Potter," greeted the Minister and rose from the chair he had been sitting upon. He was much taller than Harry and his broad shoulders made him an imposing figure.

"Minister," said Harry formally and shook Scrimgeour's hand.

"Minister, since it is Harry's first day and his classes start tomorrow I must ask you to come to the point immediately," spoke Dumbledore up.

Scrimgeour looked at Dumbledore and said, "Naturally, headmaster."

"Thank you, Minister," said Dumbledore. "Why don't we sit?"

Scrimgeour did not look any happier about that than Harry felt but they complied and sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk while the headmaster took his place behind it.

"Mr. Potter, maybe you already know, I am here because of Sirius Black's will," informed the Minister him.

"I am aware, Minister, " said Harry.

"Good," nodded Scrimgeour. "It isn't a personal will, I assume Mr. Black had it written by someone else. I will read it out to you."

With his wand, Scrimgeour summoned a small stack of papers, apparently Sirius' will.

"'To Mr. Harry James Potter, Mr. Sirius Orion Black leaves his vault in Gringotts and the rest of its content as well as his house in London and everything he might find within, including the House-Elf Kreacher.' Do you accept the will, Mr. Potter?" asked Scrimgeour.

Harry nodded. "I accept it."

"In that case you should be aware that you cannot make withdrawals from the inherited vault until you are off age. Everything else has to be arranged with the goblins," said Scrimgeour.

"Thank you, Minister," replied Harry. "But that is surely not the only reason you wanted to speak to me, right?"

Reading out wills was not the job of a Minister, Boy Who Lived or not.

"I see you're smart, Mr. Potter, that's good," said Scrimgeour. "If we might have a moment of privacy?"

This question was directed at Dumbledore who merely raised his shoulders. "I fear that is up to Harry to decide," said the old man.

Harry would have liked nothing more than sending Dumbledore away but since the headmaster had always been his confident he told Scrimgeour, "Professor Dumbledore can stay."

"If that's what you want," answered Scrimgeour slightly annoyed. When he spoke on however, every hint of annoyance had vanished from his voice. "The are many rumors that you are the so called Chosen One."

Before Harry could open his mouth Scrimgeour raised his hands. "No, you don't have to say anything. It does not really matter."

Harry frowned. "I think it matters very much, Minister," he said.

Scrimgeour laughed. "Yes, for you it is very important, Mr. Potter. Don't get me wrong. What I mean is this, it does not matter if you are the Chosen One or not, as long as the people believe you are. The idea of a Chosen One gives them hope and the will to fight because they know that You Know Who can be destroyed, or better, is destined to be destroyed."

"I see," said Harry. From the Minister's point of view it made perfectly sense. If the people had hope, his government had back up and that was all he cared for.

"So what exactly do you want from me?" asked Harry.

"Ah, yes," said Scrimgeour. "You must realize that if the Chosen One would show up from time to time at the Ministry it would raise the common moral heaps. They would see that we are acting, that we aren't helpless..." When Harry said nothing in response to that, Scrimgeour continued, "I have heard that you want to be an auror, Mr. Potter. Being at the Ministry from time to time will surely be a help in achieving your aim."

"Bribing my students is very uncalled for, Minister," injected Dumbledore seriously.

Scrimgeour frowned but ignored the headmaster. "What do you think?" he asked Harry.

"I think that the Ministry and I have not been on best terms in the past," answered Harry slowly, taking his time with Scrimgeour. He could practically see the Minister's brain working. It was clear that he wanted Harry in his propaganda and was willing to do a lot for it.

"Of course, there have been some mistakes made under Minister Fudge," admitted Scrimgeour, probably to assuage him. Harry felt the mind link completely closed on Voldemort's side. Well, it was not as if he could not make his own decisions.

So Harry raised his left hand which had the words _I must not tell lies _engraved. "And mutilating a fifteen year-old? Is that a 'mistake', too? As far as I know Umbridge still works in the Ministry."

"What has happened is regrettable but I had no saying in it. Dolores Umbridge misjudged her competence. What is important now is the war against You Know Who," stated Scrimgeour. "If you do not want to do it for me think about the war."

Harry suppressed a laugh. What the fuck made Scrimgeour think he would want to do anything for him, personally? But the opportunity was too good to let pass. Tonks was out and if Scrimgeour wanted to bribe him with the aurors... Well the Boy Who Lived was surely trustworthy enough to be let in on some tactics, was he not?

Harry sighed. "I will do as you asked of me," he said, "but only because it might give us an advantage against Voldemort."

Harry gleefully saw the Minister flinch at the name. "A wise decision," said Scrimgeour. "I will owl you soon for further arrangements. You won't regret helping me."

With that Scrimgeour stood. "Headmaster, Mr. Potter," he took his leave and exited Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore frowned. "Are you certain of your decision, Harry?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," answered Harry firmly. "I'm not very happy about working with the Ministry either, but if it helps us win the war, I will do it. I never wanted the fame but now I can use it for something good."

"I hope you are right, my boy, I hope you are right," said Dumbledore, sounding very old.

Harry watched Dumbledore closely. "Professor, I was wondering... The _Daily Prophet_ said that Voldemort looks different now, very young. Is that true?"

"For once the _Daily Prophet _was fairly correct," confirmed Dumbledore.

"But sir, do you have any idea what he did? Maybe Polyjuice Potion?" asked Harry. He was not sure if he would get a genuine answer but he wanted to see what Dumbledore knew.

"Of course that is a possibility even though I do not think so," said Dumbledore. "I have different theories. But you must understand, Harry, that Lord Voldemort has a much vaster knowledge in the Dark Arts than I have."

Harry nodded. "Of course, sir."

"There something I need to ask of you, Harry," started Dumbledore. "Since you are now the legal owner of number twelve, Grimmuald Place-"

"Of course the Order can stay there with its headquarter," interrupted Harry, already knowing what Dumbledore wanted to ask.

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Harry. That is very generous of you."

_What else can I do with it, you're the damned secretkeeper,_ thought Harry angrily.

"There is just one thing, headmaster," said Harry. "What about Kreacher? What should I do with him?"

Harry really had no idea what to do with the foul creature. Should Dumbledore think of something. Although Harry was pretty certain that Kreacher would be more than happy if Harry beheaded him and placed said head next to the other dead house-elves in Grimmauld place. If only they had not cleaned so thoroughly and banished the creepy heads from the house.

"Ah, yes, Kreacher. I think it would be best if you ordered him to work here in Hogwarts so the other house-elves can have an eye on him," said Dumbledore.

That was not a bad idea.

"Um... should I do it now?" said Harry a little uncertain.

"The sooner the better," encouraged Dumbledore him with a smile.

Harry cleared his throat. "Kreacher?" he called out.

And since every house-elf was bound to their master, even if they hated the fact, Kreacher appeared with a loud crack in Dumbledore's office.

"You called, Master?" said Kreacher with false submission in his voice before he muttered, "What does the dirty little muggle lover want, calling me away from the noble house of my mistress..."

Harry sighed impatiently. "I forbid you to insult everyone, Kreacher," he ordered.

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher and pressed his teeth violently together in order to keep his mouth shut.

"I want you to work in the kitchen of Hogwarts. Listen to the other house-elves and do as they say. Stay in the kitchen unless I call you," Harry briefly glanced at Dumbledore who nodded in approval.

"Go to the kitchens now," said Harry.

"Yes, master," croaked Kreacher and disapparated.

"Professor?" asked Harry, something had suddenly come to his mind. "How could Kreacher come here? I thought one couldn't apparate in and out of Hogwarts?"

"That is theoretically right, Harry," answered Dumbledore. "But house-elf magic is very different than wizard's magic. They can apparate through the most complicated wards."

Harry nodded. Strange that. "Is this everything, Professor? I would like to go to my common room now."

"Just one thing, my boy, then you can go," said Dumbledore. "I believe it is time to give you some... for the lack of a better word... private lessons."

Harry stared. Dumbledore was starting to try and ensure that he had a chance? Or at least a chance to take out all of the horcruxes before he had to die himself?

"What will you be teaching me?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled secretively, his eyes twinkling. "You will find out soon, my boy. Now go, to bed."

* * *

Later in the common room Ron and Hermione demanded to know what Dumbledore had wanted.

Harry told them what had happened in Dumbledore's office. They reacted carefully to Sirius' will obviously not knowing how Harry felt about it.

Then he came to the deal with Scrimgeour.

"He asked me to come to the Ministry from time to time to show the people that the Chosen One supports them," he told Ron and Hermione.

"But we don't even know if you are the Chosen One," said Hermione indignantly.

"There is something I need to tell you guys," said Harry.

His 'friends' eyed him with curiosity.

"The prophecy in the Ministry was only a recording. Dumbledore has the original one," Harry was very careful to speak lowly enough for only Ron and Hermione to hear him.

Ron gasped and Hermione made huge eyes.

"What does it say?"

"It says _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_." answered Harry.

Ron stared at him, mouth hanging open.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," said Hermione in a strangled voice. "That's terrible."

"Woah, that's really hard, man," said Ron. "But why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"When? We barely saw each other this summer," reminded Harry him.

Hermione nodded. "If you want to talk about it, Harry...?"

"It's okay. I talked about it with Dumbledore at the end of last term and I had enough time to think it through."

"If you are sure...," complied Hermione. "But what happened with Scrimgeour?"

"Well, he said it did not really matter to him if I was the Chosen One or not as long as the people believe it and it keeps them fighting," Harry resumed his story. "He even told me that I could get connections to the aurors if I came to the Ministry."

"He tried to bribe you," blurted Ron out. Harry fought the urge to grin. Now who manipulated whom?

"Silent, Ronald," said Hermione surly. "What did you say, Harry?"

"Well at first I did not want to help him but he emphasized how devastating it would be if people stopped fighting Voldemort and so in the end I complied," said Harry.

"You said yes?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Yes," said Harry confidently.

"I'm not sure about this, Harry," said Hermione. "You know how the Ministry is, we saw it last year. Besides it will only decrease the time you need to study."

"Hermione, I will get by," answered Harry. "And this is for something good. You want us to win the war, don't you?"

"Of course I want us to win," Hermione called. "But I just think you could make better use of the time if you studied."

"Are you sure you're not only doing it because it will help you become an auror?" interrupted Ron furiously.

One could always count on Ron's jealousy.

"I – what?" Harry acted surprised. "Ron, how can you think that? This is about fighting Voldemort, not about me!"

Ron snorted loudly. "Not about you? This is always about you! We always get the danger and you get the praise!" he shouted.

The whole common room had turned to stare at them.

Harry had to restrain himself from hexing Ron. "You always get the danger and I the praise? That's a new one, really! As far as I know, _your_ parents didn't die and neither did _your_ godfather! And Voldemort is not out to kill _you! _But _I_ only get the praise! Why did no one else notice but you, my life is a fucking party!" he hissed.

No one said a word. From the corner of his eye Harry saw Ginny following his every move with her eyes.

Hermione looked about to cry. Why the hell was she always about to cry in such situations?

When the silence stretched, Harry stalked towards the boy's dorm leaving the common room behind.

When he closed the door of the dorm, he leaned against it, smiling. No Ron in the next time. This had worked brilliantly. Through the closed door he could hear Dean Thomas say, "You can be a real wanker sometimes, Ron. What the hell is up with you?"

Dean was Ginny's boyfriend and he insulted Ron? He must have a death wish. Sniggering, Harry went over to his bed and dropped on it fully clothed. He was tired to death.

* * *

**Review please! Press the button below! Tell me what you think! I need constructive criticism!**


	14. The HalfBlood Prince

**Okay, first of all I'm really sorry it took me so long to update. It's not because someone stole part of my story as some suggested. It were many reasons. First was my graduation, which was a huge party and then I went on holiday and then I started working. The main reason is that I had major writers block. I hate this chapter because it follows the canon plotline relative closely. It is the last chapter of that kind and I'm really glad, cause it was absolutely no fun to write at all. I hope it's more fun to read though. It is about Harry's first potions lesson and some other things, therefor it includes parts of JKRs chapter with the same name. Those parts do not belong to me and are mainly what Slughorn says in the lesson. I saw no reason to change that. Okay rambled enough.**

**Thanks for reviewing the last chapter to all of you, I don't know anymore to which reviews I replied, and to which I didn't, so sorry, if you didn't get an answer. You're all lovely.**

**Enjoy if you're still out there reading this.**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**The Half Blood Prince**

The next morning Harry awoke early after sleeping through the night undisturbed thanks to his newly acquired Occlumency skills. He was not really in the mood for dealing with Ron right now so he silently slipped out of the dormitory unbeknownst to his snoring house mates.

Although Harry was more of a morning person by force (like his aunt demanding that he stood up and made breakfast) he had no problem to get up early – unlike Ron. This meant he could have breakfast quietly at least until Ron came crawling back at him to apologize what the red head would no doubt do.

*Why can't I just kill him and be done with it?* Harry thought as he went down the stairs towards the common room, subconsciously activating his mind link.

*Having a bad morning, Harry?* instantly came the reply.

*Being stuck with the weasel – yes.* thought Harry resignedly. *Why did you close the link yesterday? Been doing something important?*

He had thought he would go down to breakfast alone but in the common room there was someone waiting for him – Ginny. Harry had known he would not be able to get around talking to her for long, so why not now? At least they would have things settled then.

*Read the newspaper and you'll find out.* thought Voldemort. Whatever had passed yesterday it had left him damn satisfied.

*And why is it that you can't just tell me?* questioned Harry. He hated being left out of things.

*What's the point? You'll find out anyway and if you don't know it will be a lot easier to feign surprise.* insisted Voldemort sounding suspiciously like he was enjoying himself immensely.

"Morning, Harry," said Ginny as she spotted him coming down the stairs.

Harry waved at her in greeting. "Fancy joining me for breakfast, Ginny?" he asked.

Ginny regarded him closely for a moment before she smiled and nodded. The common room was empty apart of them, it was so early that none of the others were up yet.

Silently they left the common room through the portray hole and walked towards the great hall. Harry waited for Ginny to begin, the observing stares the last evening had told him what she wanted to know.

And indeed it took not much time before Ginny said, "There's something I wanted to talk about ..."

Harry shrugged in order to show that he did not mind.

"About what happened this summer," Ginny started, watching closely for his reaction. "I know it was probably all a bit much for you but I still wonder... why didn't you confront Ron and Hermione? This seems very unlike you."

Harry sighed. "You know, Ginny, I had expected you to ask me that," he said.

He stayed silent for a moment. "It's not easy to explain, really," he then told her. Of course he could not tell her the truth. First of all no one must know about the horcruxes, especially not himself being one and secondly it was not really her business anyways. But Harry liked Ginny and he knew she would not give up anyways so he would at least try to explain without revealing too much.

"The situation I'm in is very complicated, Ginny," he pointed out. "If I would confront them, it would also reveal Dumbledore's part in this. I can't pick a fight with Dumbledore right now... everyone would think I turned dark, you saw what Skeeter wrote about me in fourth year when I didn't even do anything to provoke it, not to speak about last year."

Ginny regarded him sadly. "Yeah, I suppose you're right with that. I wish life was easier on you. If someone deserves an easy life it's you," she concluded.

Harry shrugged. "It is how it is," he said. "If my life was any different I would be a different person."

"Probably," answered Ginny. She hesitated. "But, Harry, I know this is a complicated situation, it has also to do with him... with Tom, right?"

Harry's facial expression hardened automatically. It was not like he had a problem with anybody knowing, hell no, but he realized how dangerous his current situation was. "Everything in my life has to do with him, Ginny, in some way," he answered dryly.

Ginny easily noticed his change in mood and she became even more serious when she continued talking to him.

"Consider what you do very well, Harry," she whispered lowly to him. "I know how charming he can be... but he only cares about himself. Always keep that in mind, please Harry. I don't want you to regret what you do. Think about it carefully. Some things can't be undone."

"Ginny," Harry said flatly. He was suddenly tired of this conversation. He hated it when others belittled him and acted like he did not know what he was doing. He had more experience of life than average people around Dumbledore's age. "I know that. But I made my decision and I don't regret it. I probably know better what it means than anyone else."

She nodded gravely. "I kind of expected it, Harry," she sighed. "Luna hinted to it. It's just so... strange, to think that you... that you're going to fight for them, for him. I'm afraid, Harry. What is going to happen now?"

Suddenly Harry felt as if he was being deflated. As he regarded her petite face, the lost, guidance seeking expression, he remembered that – should he survive this war which seemed rather likely to him right now – Ginny was one of the persons he was going to see die, no matter how old she got. Once again the prospect of immortality unsettled Harry. Voldemort had been absolutely right when he had said that he was the only one Harry had. The only constant in his life. But then again he kind of had always been that, Harry did not really belong anywhere else. Ginny might be a friend but that was everything. She had Luna and she had brothers, Harry would never be so close to her as those people were. Whatever Voldemort was to him – Harry was not really sure of that – their bond was a lot closer and more intimate than any friendship could ever be.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts before he answered Ginny. "Now we'll wait," he told her. "Every side will make their move. It's hard to tell what will happen."

Ginny hung her head. "Yes, I suppose that's everything _I_'ll be able to do," she stated, clearly showing her awareness of the fact that despite his use of 'we' Harry would certainly not sit back and wait.

Harry did not respond to that, he only nodded and in silence they walked to the Great Hall.

They were relatively early for breakfast which meant only a few students were already present and not all of the teachers. Harry noticed Slughorn's absence which did not really surprise him since he had rated the teacher as rather laid-back. Snape, giving the perfect example of the opposite, was already there dealing out scowls, especially to Harry what did surprise him even less.

"Really, Snape teaching defense," Ginny sighed darkly as they ate their breakfast. "Is more than one year of good teaching during seven years of school really asked too much?"

"At least you have one more chance of getting a good teacher left than me and besides who knows? Maybe we'll even learn something in Snape's class," Harry remarked, not really being serious.

"Yeah, since we already learned _so _much in potions," Ginny huffed. "Snape may be an accomplished wizard but he sucks at being a teacher. I wonder why he ever became one, he hates children – besides the Malfoy brat."

"Well, at least Potions will be more interesting this year," said Harry.

Ginny nodded slowly. "Hn. I'm not really sure what to think about this whole club thing Slughorn has going..."

Harry shrugged. "He's interested in promising students... we'll see where it leads."

While they ate and chatted more and more students began to fill the Great Hall. Although they were already through with eating they had to stay to receive their schedules.

The 6th year Gryffindor boys arrived pretty late and Ron looked peeved, Hermione in tow. Harry suspected that they'd had some sort of quarrel again, probably about him. Hermione kept whispering to Ron agitatedly while he ignored the bushy haired girl strictly.

Ron acted as though he had not noticed Harry and sat down as far away from him as possible. Hermione appeared frustrated but followed him nonetheless, throwing Harry an apologetic look.

"My brother's such an arsehole," muttered Ginny, watching Ron with narrowed eyes.

"Well, I can't really deny that," said Dean who sat down on Ginny's other side which was not occupied by Harry.

He casually put his arm around Ginny and she smiled up at him, showing no sign of discomfort.

"Morning, Dean," she said lightheartedly. "I would have waited for you but I had to talk to Harry after Ron threw his tantrum yesterday.

"Sure, Gins," smiled Dean and then he said to Harry, "I'm sorry Ron's such a right prat. I really don't get it. But hey, don't take it too hard, he's your best mate, he'll get over it."

Harry nodded and smiled mechanically, knowing it was expected of him.

"So Ginny told me Dumbledore made you Quidditch captain, congrats, man! You already know when you'll hold tryouts?" Dean babbled on.

"Thanks, Dean. No, I don't know yet... but I let you know as soon as I've chosen a date, okay? You too, Ginny, of course," answered Harry cheerily.

"Um … Harry, have you told Ron, you know, that you're Quidditch captain?" asked Ginny, glancing down the table to where Ron sat.

"I intended, too, but no, I haven't found time to do so before yesterday evening," he answered casually and followed Ginny's eyes. Judging by Ron's facial expression as their eyes met, he had already heard the news from elsewhere.

"And I think it's not necessary anymore," he sighed but inwardly he smirked. Maybe there would not be a reconciliation at all this term if he pissed Ron off enough.

"Oh great, then we're in for another fit of jealousy," groaned Ginny. "Really, I dunno what's got Ron so worked up lately, maybe those brains did some permanent damage."

"Or maybe it was seeing Fleur being attracted to Bill instead of him," muttered Harry dryly.

Ginny started laughing. "Very possible, Harry... really, Ron and Fleur?"

"Fleur...," Dean frowned. "You mean Fleur Delacour?"

Immediately Ginny stopped laughing. "Suddenly excited, Dean?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

"Um, no, I mean, I was just wondering... I love you Ginny, I'd never give Fleur a second look," Dean was quick to declare.

"If you say so," said Ginny while he face said 'yeah, right'.

"Hey Gins, please don't be mad," insisted Dean. "I don't care about Fleur, she's way too old and too arrogant."

Ginny shook her head. "It's okay, Dean. I didn't mean to snap, it's just that she was around all summer and I got used to every boy around admiring her, I should not have assumed that you do the same."

They smiled at each other and Ginny's cover up boy-friend turned back to his sausages.

When the morning post arrived Harry remembered that he still wanted to write to Remus. He would take his time with that letter though, formulating it carefully to find out what Remus' actual place was in his life.

When the students started opening their post (Harry had not gotten any, not having subscribed to the _Daily Prophet_) they started whispering among themselves.

Ginny, who had gotten a copy of the newspaper, placed it on the table for both Dean and Harry to see and read as well.

Harry tried his best to appear righteously outraged as he stared down at a picture of Minister Scrimgeour trying to placate angry reporters.

"It was only a question of time, I guess," he commented bitterly. "Now that the Dementors are gone from Azkaban it's not nearly as safe as it was before."

*Congratulations for breaking _into _Azkaban a second time.* he thought. *I just saw the newspapers.*

*I guess I let them wait long enough, besides they're not really any use inside of Azkaban.* he heard Voldemort's voice.

*It was kind of their own fault that they ended up there.* Harry commented.

*Yes, it was... as well as their failure to retrieve the prophecy. Not that the prophecy matters anymore.* Voldemort thought darkly.

"Well, at least Lucius Malfoy won't be able to slip back into all of his old positions in the Ministry now," Dean was saying.

Ginny glanced over at the Slytherin table, Harry and Dean following her example. Their reaction to the news was very contained though Harry believed to notice a satisfied glow on Malfoy Jr.'s face.

"Now that things are getting serious Draco does not seem to eager to boast about his father, don't you think?" Harry said.

"Cowards," snorted Ginny. "The lot of them."

*Harry.* Harry waited for Voldemort to continue. *I want you to watch over Draco. See to that he makes no mistakes completing his task.*

Harry considered this for a moment. *Do you think he will mess up otherwise?*

*He's naïve, Harry. If he were captured it would be inconvenient.* replied Voldemort.

*I guess I can do that.* agreed Harry. It would definitely be fun, he decided, remembering Draco's shocked expression on the train. *What do you have him do then?* he asked curiously.

*Draco has to open a secure way into Hogwarts up to the end of this term. He told me he intends to repair the vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts. Its complement is located at _Borgin and Burke's_.* elaborated Voldemort. *His other task is to kill Dumbledore.*

*_What?_* demanded Harry furiously. *I remind you that you promised me revenge on those who betrayed me-*

*Hush, you stupid boy.* interrupted Voldemort him impatiently. *Do you really think that Draco Malfoy would be able to kill a wizard like Albus Dumbledore? It's meant to distract from his real task.*

Harry felt his cheeks redden slightly, now regretting his quick assumption. He hoped that no one would notice.

*And Draco doesn't know that?* he asked.

*No.* came the gleeful response.

*So he'll try to kill Dumbledore the whole long year, thinking that you'll kill him if he fails and you don't even expect him to succeed?* Harry summed it up bemusedly.

*That's the idea.*

*This year might not be so bad after all.*

While Ginny and Dean continued to speak about the article Harry thought of something else.

*Scrimgeour was here yesterday.*

*That was only a question of time.* Voldemort mused. *Did he court you?*

*Yes, he did 'court' me. He wants me to come by the Ministry for show from time to time. In return he offered me to get an inside look in the DMLE.* Harry pointed out casually.

*And you accepted.* It was not a question.

*Of course.* replied Harry smugly.

*This puts you in a delicate position, Harry. Get close to Slughorn. He will be able to help you becoming involved further with the Ministry. After all, who would mistrust _you_?* Voldemort came immediately to the same conclusion Harry had come to. He sounded very pleased.

*No one.* Harry concluded, saitisfied.

Not long after, McGonagall came to their table and gave out their timetables, informing Harry that he could now indeed continue Potions since Professor Slughorn also accepted students with an E in his class.

Harry's joy at those news was genuine but not because it gave him the qualifications for becoming an auror ( like McGonagall thought ). The true reason was that it gave him the possibility to get closer to Slughorn. Too bad he sucked at Potions.

* * *

Harry's first Potions class took place shortly after breakfast.

As he headed to the dungeon's, leaving Ginny and Dean (who neither wanted nor was able to continue potions) behind, Hermione quickly caught up with him. Harry had expected her to be in Potions, after all she had the necessary grades, there was no way she would drop it.

"Harry," she gasped, a bit out of breath from hurrying after him. "I just wanted to tell you I'm so sorry about Ron's behavior and I want you to know-"

Harry cut her off. Why not play pissed off with her either? Maybe it would keep her away as well?

"You're obviously not so sorry if you only talk to me when Ron's not around?" he snapped in an offended tone. "You completely ignored me during breakfast! I guess you weren't too eager to tell me you're sorry!"

"You're being unfair, Harry," retorted Hermione, now upset. "You know how Ron is, I felt it was better to talk to him first. Can't you at all see where he is coming from?"

Oh, now he was being unfair? Interesting. "So you think he's right, that I am only out for fame, and don't give a shit for anything or anyone else?" he accused heatedly.

It was really fun to see Hermione contemplate on how to calm him down.

"Of course not, Harry," she exclaimed fiercely. "I know that Ron's wrong about this, but can't you understand him at all-"

"No," Harry interrupted again. He speed up his pace down the last stairs and when they reached the classroom Hermione dropped the subject.

Shew simply touched his hand softly with hers and murmured to him. "Please, Harry think about this. I know Ron is sorry for his harsh words."

Harry chose to completely ignore her while in truth he would have very much liked to rip her hand off and stuff it in her stupid face. Instead he regarded the other students who did continue Potions. Slughorn was not there yet, so they were waiting outside of the classroom.

There was Draco Malfoy, giving Harry a sharp look before ignoring him completely, as well as Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin, four Ravenclaws, amongst them Cho Chang, who smiled shyly at Harry and Ernie McMillan from Hufflepuff. Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors so far, he noticed.

There was hushed chatter amongst the Ravenclaws as well as the Slytherins, only Cho and Draco did not partake in it. Cho looked sad and unsure whether to approach Harry or not. Malfoy on the other hand was lost in thought, apparently, he only gave Hermione his standard contemptuous look.

Ernie, however, made his way over to them. "Harry, Hermione, it's good to see you back," he declared loudly. "I hope you had a nice summer!"

In that moment Ron stumped down the stairs into the dungeon, already looking peeved, what only intensified when he saw Harry.

Everyone noticed it and even Harry was confused. The fury seemed to radiate off Ron in waves. Hermione pointedly cleared her throat and said with false cheer: "Oh, it was very nice and yours, Ernie?"

But Ernie McMillan simply ignored her.

As quickly as the stunning impression Ron had given had come, it dissipated again. Ron dealt out a couple of glares before leaning against a wall and brooding.

Harry shrugged the situation off, he caught a few students shaking their heads as if to be sure that they had not only imagined the disturbing entrance Ron had made.

Malfoy was most obviously shaken out of his stupor. "Why so distressed, weasel king?" he asked loudly, a clearly mocking expression on his face. "Did Potter finally dump you?"

All the while Malfoy's attention was on Ron, Harry felt a calculating supervision of his own reaction to those words. Malfoy was not the only one to watch Harry at this though. While the Ravenclaws settled even closer to themselves, wanting to be left out of the conflict, Theodore Nott grabbed Malfoy's arm lightly as if to hold him back from doing something reckless. But still most of their eyes were on Harry.

Yet Ron's reaction was to be expected. While Harry's expression remained stoic, cool even, Ron's face reddened and Harry could see his former best friend grind hid teeth together.

But instead of saying anything in return, Ron kept his mouth shut as he glared viciously at Malfoy and proceeded to stare at the floor.

This lack of a retort was acknowledged by Malfoy with a gloating laugh, for he clearly understood what Ron's silence meant.

"Hm, Potter, nothing to say on that?" asked Malfoy, now turning towards Harry, daring him to respond.

"Draco...," said Zabini in warning tones, touching his arm lightly as if to hold the blond back should it be necessary.

The other students shuffled uneasily, some looking at Harry with barely concealed curiosity, some regarding Malfoy wearily. Cho looked upset and opened her mouth as if to interfere, Ron stared at Harry in anticipation, apparently expecting and fearing him to damn him to hell.

"Are you having anger issues, Malfoy? Listen to Zabini... I thought your family had enough problems without you picking a fight every few seconds," Harry only remarked dryly.

Zabini's eyes were cool as they lay upon Harry but he seemed to agree with him and tucked Malfoy's arm slightly but Malfoy was unwilling to comply.

"You're in no position to estimate that," sneered Malfoy, his whole attention focused on Harry as if he suspected a secret code to be revealed to him.

"And are you?" asked Harry back seriously.

That seemed to take Malfoy aback, he hesitated for the tiniest splinter of a moment before raising an eyebrow condescendingly.

"Of course I am, Potter, don't talk about things you know _nothing _of," he said haughtily, his irritation gone, replaced by the sincerity Malfoy had always portrayed – until recently.

The air of uneasy anticipation was busted like a bubble when Slughorn opened the classroom door from the inside, apparently unaware of the delicate mood that had settled on his students.

"Come inside, come inside," he ushered them. "Excuse my tardiness, but I had a few preparations to make... go on, take a seat."

Just as during there ride with the Hogwarts Express Slughorn seemed very comfortable and luxurious with what he was doing. Especially keenly he eyed Harry and Zabini, the others received a fair share of friendly interest.

Despite Slughorn's warm way of dealing with people, Harry had the feeling that everyone who did not stand out would be discarded quickly enough.

Slughorn's potions classroom seemed to be an entirely different than Snape's, although it was the exactly same. Only the air about it was what defined this change. The dark, depressing mood had been lifted off the dungeon and replaced by interesting, enticing flavors of lazily bubbling potions.

The room was a resemblance of Slughorn's persona, light, pleasant and cozy with an underlying finesse.

"Sir?" asked Harry confidently as he entered with the others.

"Yes, Harry?" beamed Slughorn.

"I'm sorry, I don't have a book, I didn't know that I could take potions N.E.W.T. level, because Professor Snape...," but Slughorn did not let him finish.

"Nothing to worry about, my boy," he shushed Harry. "You can lend one of the old potions books, until you get yours from _Flourish & Blotts."_

"Thank you, sir," smiled Harry as he walked up to the front, where Slughorn handed him a worn potions book.

"I don't have one either,Professor," mumbled Ron behind Harry. "Because of what Harry was saying..."

"Not a problem," brushed Slughorn off while grabbing another old school book. "And you are...?"

"Ron Weasley," said Ron as he took the book from the teacher, blushing a little.

"Ah," made Slughorn.

All the while the Slytherins had already taken a seat at one of the tables together as well as the Ravenclaws, besides Cho. She was still standing seeming uncertain.

Harry gave her a questioning look before sitting down at an empty table. Cho seemed to bring herself to a decision. Now determined she strode over to his table and sat down next to him.

"Hey, Harry. Do you mind me sitting here?" she asked.

When Harry shook his head, she smiled. "I wanted to tell you I'm really sorry for last year."

Harry nodded silently, thinking that Cho was _now _really too late.

His tight-lipped answers obviously unsettled her a bit.

Finally Ron had gotten his book and realized that the only empty spaces that were left were those at Harry and Cho's table. Therefor he did not look happy at all when he sat down together with Hermione.

Cho briefly glanced at Ron before looking back at Harry, feeling the tense mood between them. Harry knew she had never liked Ron and his seething expression did not sweeten this relationship up.

Hermione on the other hand looked exceptionally pleased, probably because she thought that sitting together might be a way to construct a make up between Ron and Harry.

As if.

"This looks far better than Snape's lessons already, don't you think, Harry?" Cho whispered, deciding to ignore Ron and Hermione for now.

Well, Ron might fancy to walk around displaying distress but Harry surely wouldn't.

So he gave Cho a slight smile. "Being worse would actually be a hard task. Maybe we'll even learn something this year, if the … strain in this room doesn't distract too much." At those words he briefly glanced over to Malfoy, but Cho as well as Ron and Hermione understood that he truly meant his former best friend.

"It shouldn't," said Cho, frowning. "Slughorn looks like a fair teacher. I wonder what he has prepared for our first lesson."

Like most of the class she was eying the three cauldrons that were standing in the front curiously and, judged by their faces, some in remembrance of Hagrid's first lesson.

Slughorn had taken position next to the cauldrons and was gesturing to them with his red hand. "Now then," he said. "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He pointed to the cauldron to the right, it was filled with what looked like clear water. Hermione's hand went up before Harry had even looked at it properly and Slughorn immediately pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," she said.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. To Harry it was obvious now that this was Veritaserum, after all Snape had already threatened him with said potion, but he doubted that he could have recognized it as fast on his own.

Frowning a bit Harry wondered whether he could get close to Slughorn if he sucked at the man's subject? Of course he could learn – and probably would, at least a reasonable, useful way to spend time, _alone_ – but truth be told it was his worst subject and he lacked knowledge from five years. He might have gotten an E in his O.W.L.s but it would hardly suffice to be top of the class, especially with Hermione in the same course.

"Now," Slughorn was continuing, pointing at the cauldron in the middle, "this one is pretty well-known … featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately, too ... who can-?"

It was sheer luck – something that Harry seemed to have so often – that he actually recognized this potion.

And what was even more surprising was the fact that his hand went up with Hermione's, he had not even thought properly about it, it was more instinctive.

Slughorn beamed, he gave Hermione an approving look for participating again before pointing at Harry.

The classes reaction was a bit different though, while the Raveclaws and Ernie did not notice anything strange, Harry saw Malfoy raise an eyebrow, Ron gawk at him and even Hermione look a bit dumbfounded for the fact that this was actually the very first time in six years that Harry Potter was willingly offering an answer to the teacher's question in a Potions lesson.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," he said calmly.

"Excellent, Harry, though I've heard you came in contact with the potion in your forth year...?" not waiting for an answer to that, just taking Harry's ambiguous jerk with the head as a 'yes', he went on to the third cauldron. "Now this one here... yes, my dear?"

Harry had no idea and Slughorn took Hermione again,

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed," said Slughorn. "I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, and I can smell freshly mown grass new parchment and-"

But the Hermione broke off, blushing. Harry actually barely noticed he was staring at the cauldron, quite mesmerized.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, feigning not to notice Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

Harry blinked and rubbed his nose. So cold and sweet, what he smelt, almost unpleasant and yet so _good_.

"Everything all right, Harry?"asked Cho, smiling bemusedly. "You look funny... what do you smell?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing special," he brushed it off. "Just a broom stick, flowers, icing tart..."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm muggleborn, you see."

The students watched Slughorn closely for his reaction, even Ron had interrupted his brooding to watch the chubby Potions teacher.

When Slughorn was not bothered at all, it did not surprise Harry, he had assumed that the man would be more focused on success than on blood and Hermione's intelligence promised success.

"Does not matter at all, my dear. I just thought there was a possibility after all... but you will go far even without such a predecessor, doesn't matter at all...," he beamed. "Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter."

Slughorn paused shortly before explaining:

"_Amortentia _does not really create love. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is possibly the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room – oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking sceptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have seen, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love...

"And now," said Slughorn, "it's time to start work."

By that time both Hermione and Cho (whose Ravenclaw side began to show) seemed engrossed with the man's teaching and eager to start. Ron was rather unmotivated, Harry strongly suspected that McGonagall had pushed him in this course, just like she had with himself.

Harry looked in his book tentatively and his mouth twitched in displeasure. How the hell was he supposed to read anything in _that book_? The former owner had written all over the pages in a neat, tight script and even crossed parts of the instructions out. On first sight it seemed impossible to Harry to make out anything of the original text.

His teacher in meantime had moved on to a tiny cauldron on the his desk, the potion within was splashing merrily; it was the color of molten gold. It seemed ready to be drunken, almost addictive, yet strangely harmless, drops leaping like goldfish, though nothing had spilled over the desk.

"Yes. That." Slughorn looked about merrily. "Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called _Felix Felicis. _I take it," he turned smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what _Felix Felicis_ does, Ms. Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

They gasped, Harry saw Malfoy staring at the potion, fully concentrated. Well, Draco could surely need a bit – or better more than a bit – of liquid luck.

But the mere thought of it, always lucky, had them all excited and what a promising prospect it was, every test an outstanding, the girl or boy of your dreams, thousand galleons in the lottery. Harry was unable to suppress a small smile, almost sadly. The world after all is cruel.

"What is the problem with F_elix Felicis, _Professor?" he asked, slightly curious.

"The problem, Mr. Potter?" Slughorn looked a bit confused, but interested, being so calculatedly interrupted in watching their anticipation.

"Well, there is obviously a problem with it or people would be drinking it the whole time, wouldn't they? I mean, if you've always luck you'd have a perfect life, and honestly, who doesn't want that?"

A pleasant grin stretched across the teacher's face. "I see, Harry, you are quite foreseeing. Indeed there is a problem, as you called it. First of all _Felix Felicis _is incredibly difficult to brew and can have terrible results if done incorrectly. And secondly an overdose, caused by taking too much or taking it for too long, does not only make you lucky but reckless and imprudent. But one drop of a correctly done potion, like the one you see here, does no harm, no harm at all."

"And that is what I shall be offering as a price in this lesson. One tiny bottle of _Felix Felicis," _said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his bottle and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt. But be careful, I must give you warning that _Felix Felicis_ is a banned substance in organized competitions … sporting events, for instance, examinations or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only … and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!"

By now the classroom was humming with eagerness, never had a student been so keen on beginning in any of Snape's lessons. It was more than clear that every single one of the students present fancied to obtain the little flask of liquid luck.

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you going to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of _Advanced Potion-Making. _We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be enough for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

They all practically jumped to work. It had the air of an exam, the silent tension as everyone strived to do their best and that as fast as possible. Hermione was already weighing ingredients whilst others were still turning to page ten in _Advanced Potion Making._

Harry himself was staring at page ten in disbelief, the former owner of his book had obviously had a low regard for the instructions since he had crossed about three fourth of them out and scribbled corrections in the book. It was very difficult to decipher anything but Harry managed (with some effort) to get the correct ingredients from the store cupboard.

Soon, there was progress to be seen, mostly in Hermione's cauldron. Malfoy, amongst others, was constantly glancing around, checking how far the others had come with their potion. Unsurprisingly his gaze rested on Hermione mostly, and even the Hufflepuffs and Raveclaws who had never had potions with Gryffindor before quickly realized that Hermione was a top student in potions as well.

Trying and failing to cut up the Sopophorous Beans Harry consulted his book again.

_Crash with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting. _Was written in black ink on top of the printed version.

Well, why not give it a try? Hermione's potion was already two states ahead of his own, so it would not do harm to try something else.

To his surprise the previous owner's instructions worked wonders. Crashed with the dagger the small wrinkled bean released much more juice than Harry would have assumed to even be in them. Putting the juice in his cauldron, to his utter amazement, the potion turned exactly the way described in the book.

Harry hesitated. Either this was luck and coincidence or the previous owner had been a prodigy in potions. He considered this. If it was the second, than the scribbled instructions would give him an advantage that even outweighed the others' skills. It would just be important to keep it secret where his sudden excelling came from.

"Hey, Cho," he said. "Can I look in your book? I can't read a single word in this one." Harry gestured dismissively at the besmirched pages.

"Um, sure," answered Cho struggling with her Sopophorous Bean. "Your potion still looks quite good."

Which was an understatement. But never mind.

Pretending to look up in Cho's book what he could not read in his own, he looked out for the next correction. _Add clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir._

He glanced over to Hermione who had been stirring counter-clockwise like _Advanced Potion __Making _instructed. Her potion had not turned clear as water, it was still a deep lilac.

So after his seventh counter-clockwise stir, Harry stirred clockwise and his theory was confirmed. His potion turned into a pale pink, the former owner must have had a surpassing talent in potions.

"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione frustratedly, glaring at her potion, her face reddened and slightly sweaty from the fumes.

Cho looked up from her potion distractedly and Ron's head snapped over to Harry while he gave the pinkish potion a hateful stare. His own was a deep navy, Harry realized.

"I added one clockwise stir-" Harry offered innocently.

"No, the book says counter-clockwise," snapped Hermione in agitation.

Harry shrugged. If she didn't want to listen, fine with him. He continued to stir his potion according to the corrections made in his book and it slowly turned clear as water, as described by the book.

Though Harry wondered who the book might have belonged to and why he or she left it at Hogwarts. After all the person could have been very successful with publishing those improved recipes. But it would be difficult for Harry to find this out by himself, the only potions masters he knew where Slughorn and Snape... It certainly had not belonged to Horace Slughorn and Harry doubted that it had belonged to Snape.

Shutting his book he briefly looked at the first page, maybe the owner had written his name in the book. But nope. _This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince._ stood there instead of a name. Which gave Harry no clue at all.

*The Half-Blood Prince.* thought Harry. Strange name, that.

*Who?* came Voldemort's reply, almost amusingly confused.

*The Half-Blood Prince.* repeated Harry. *Do you know who that is?*

*No.* answered Voldemort sounding a bit annoyed. *What's the meaning of this anyways?*

*Listen-* thought Harry.

*I _am _listening.*

*Okay, okay. I have this potions book here, Slughorn leans it to me. It belonged to a Hogwarts student who must have been a true prodigy in potions, because he or she crossed out about 75 percent of the book to replace it with improved instructions. So I wondered who it might have belonged to, and the first page reads, _this book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince._ I thought you might know who that is.* explained Harry.

*Hm. I only know one prodigy potioneer and that is Severus Snape. The Half-Blood Prince... Prince. Could it be...?*

"And time's … up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

They all drew back from the cauldron's, some uttering a knackered sigh. Harry looked around carefully at the potions of the others. Hermione's had not paled, Ron's had thickened and Cho's had stayed red, since she had not gotten the part with the Sopophorous Bean right.

"Amazing, Harry," whispered Cho when she examined his potion. "I didn't know you were so good at potions."

*Could it be what?* asked Harry impatiently.

Hermione threw him a grumpy look that clearly said that she had not know he was that good at Potions either.

*I believe that your Half-Blood Prince is indeed Severus.* thought Voldemort, sounding quiet bemused.

*Snape? Why? Just because he has a knack for Potions?*

*No, because he's a half-blood and his mother's name was Eileen Prince, which would make him a Half-Blood Prince, a half-blooded Prince.*

*How do you know that?* asked Harry, baffled.

*Eileen Prince went to school with me, she was in my year. Sometime in the fifties she ran off with some muggle, not shortly after Andromeda Black. I heard she was unhappy till her early death.* There was a short silence. *So Severus altered the instructions... I suppose you tested his improvements?*

*Yes, I did.* thought Harry as Slughorn stepped at their table.

He ignored Ron's potion with a wrinkled nose, gave Cho's red one a pitying look and an approving nod to Hermione's. But when he looked at Harry's he beamed looking positively delighted.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good Lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent, she was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, here you are – one bottle of _Felix Felicis_, as promised, and use it well!"

*And they just got me a bottle of _Felix Felicis_.* Harry thought as he smiled up at Slughorn with a mixture of shy pride and honest joy.

*Don't you feel like cheating, Harry, my boy?* asked Voldemort in mock disapproval.

Harry could not help as his smiled turned into an amused grin which made Slughorn pat his shoulder before waddling back to his desk.

*Actually, sir, I found it fair enough that _Professor _Snape finally taught me something.*

So it was Snape's book. Now, Harry was not quite sure why he had at first excluded the possibility that it could be Snape's. Probably because the book had helped him and that was something he did not connect to the greasy bat.

But it did not really matter. It had gotten him more of Slughorn's attention which had been his main aim and a bottle of _Felix Felicis._ What to do with it? Maybe push Ron off the Astronomy tower and be lucky enough not to get caught? No, Harry felt he should keep it for something with more significance (and more risk).

He scraped his things together and slowly the students started to exit the classroom. Malfoy gave him an annoyed yet scrutinizing look as he passed by. Harry supposed he had added just one more surprise on Malfoy's list.

Hermione instead looked at him almost suspiciously.

"Is there anything you want to say?" he whispered to her as they left as well.

"I was merely wondering how you did so well... not that I don't think you capable of it...," she said.

"What are you getting at? You think I cheated, is it that?" Harry demanded bluntly.

"I never said that!" defended Hermione herself. "I only think it's strange, we had the same instructions after all."

"Everyone had the same instructions, and not everyone did as good as you did either," said Harry sternly, not liking the way Hermione was eying his book bag.

"But..", started Hermione.

"But what?" asked Harry heatedly. "I never did better than you before? Is it that? Do you begrudge me my success, because you were so sure that you would win?"

"No, Harry, I never-" she started.

"Don't you talk to her like that, Potter," Ron suddenly spat. He had been walking a few steps ahead of them, before he had turned around to glare at Harry hatefully.

Hermione jumped a little at his tone and Harry stopped in his tracks to regard Ron coolly. "Don't tell me what to do, Weasley, I won't listen anyways, so spare your breath."

"Please don't-" cried Hermione in alarm.

"Why don't we just leave, Harry?" asked Cho who had stepped up to them. "You wouldn't want detention on your first day."

"Yeah, that would be the best," growled Ron, grabbing Hermione's arm. "Come, Hermione, we're leaving."

Hermione did not look too happy. All the better.

* * *

Later that day Harry went up to the owlery, using the quiet and lack of other students to write a letter to Remus.

_Dear Moony,_

he wrote

_it's my first day back at Hogwarts. I haven't heard from you since Padfoot's death and I hope you are well. I did have almost no contact to my friends this summer and I don't know where you are or what are you doing. You don't have to tell me if you can't or don't want to. I only want you to know that you, whatever happens, can talk to me should you wish for it. My summer was quiet refreshing this year and some strained relationships of mine did actually improve while others have been stressed. Some changes and Padfoot's death actually gave me a lot to think about. I know things change quickly these days, as I experienced. And many of those changes can't be undone._

_I would like to discuss some issues with you... maybe we can meet on one of my Hogwarts weekends if you don't mind. I don't dare to make this more precise since I don't know where you are._

_Take care of yourself, Moony._

Harry regarded the letter he had written. He was less than satisfied but he did not dare to express himself clearer for he absolutely thought Dumbledore capable of controlling the mail and furthermore, who knew what Remus might do? Harry needed to be sure where Lupin stood before he could trust him with anything.

"Harry," said an airy voice behind him. "I knew you'd be here."

"Hi, Luna," Harry smiled weekly at her. Her wide, seeing eyes confused him and now he wondered how anyone could not recognize the knowledge that danced in them. But he now also understood the beauty of her power, this alien ability to see the future which gave her such an otherworldly air was fascinating and not frightening.

"What is troubling you, Harry?" she asked him casually, while she observed the owls, listened to their hoots and soft wing beats.

"Nothing much really," mumbled Harry as he reread the letter. "It's more the daily things that annoy me... I can't stand any of them, and I'm really not looking forward to holding Quidditch tryouts."

Luna said nothing.

"But then again I think it can't be too bad, I mean, Ginny will be there and Ron will probably not be on the Quidditch team anyways...," he fell silent. Why was he rambling about this anyways? It was stupid to antagonize himself over such nuisances. He might even have fun.

"Never mind," he finished off, a bit irritated at himself.

"Hm?" made Luna. "Sorry, Harry, what did you say?"

But Harry only smiled and did not repeat. "It's nothing." He doubted that she had missed even a single one of his words.

"You can look forward to Christmas," she said dreamily, before wandering over to the spiral staircase that led downwards.

"Oh, and Harry?" she said when she had reached the door. "Watch out for Romilda Vane."

* * *

**Hey guys. Cause I took so freakishly long to update I'm going to write the next chapter, starting now. It will deal with: Quidditch tryouts, (though this fic won't be very focused on Quidditch, it's really unimportant for the plot or any character development) Remus' reply, Draco Malfoy, Harry's deal with Slughorn and a dream of Harry's.**

**If you're really nice and review, cos you like this fic or dislike it or whatever, I'll be forever grateful and write you a nice slash scene in the next chapter... how does that sound?**

**So: REVIEW PLEASE!**


	15. Appetite

**Here is the next chapter!**

**Thanks heaps for all your reviews! As promised it contains a slash scene... **

**SPECIAL WARNING: RATED NC 17 FOR GRAPHIC SLASH. Also contains violence.**

**Please do not even try to identify with Voldemort in this chapter. If you can identify I suggest you go see a psychiatrist. =D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Appetite**

The first week of school passed quickly for Harry. With the help of Snape's old book he managed to stay on top of the class in potions although it was a bit tricky to camouflage where his sudden mastery came from.

And while Harry fared more than well with Snape's book the former owner was another matter. Unsurprisingly the greasy haired Professor's attitude towards him had not changed in the slightest over the summer and the fact that he was now Harry's teacher in a subject Harry was actually good in did not make things better.

He was very cautious in the way he acted around Snape, since the man was easily the greatest danger to Harry. Except Dumbledore that was. Harry was exposed to Snape's presence for a larger period of time by far and if someone saw through his wrong memories it would be Snape. Furthermore there was still the risk of discovering whose potions book Harry was using.

He did not trust Severus Snape and felt it was unnecessary to approach him just now. So Harry tried to go unnoticed mostly which was not exactly easy since Snape was practically focusing his attention on Harry during their DADA lessons, eager to make him fail at something in his best subject.

It was truly annoying but Harry did his best to remain calm and collected whenever Snape tried to aggravate him. There really were a few things he would have liked to say but then again Snape was really a minor annoyance.

Ron and Hermione were actually troubling him more, not only because he was forced to spend a lot more time with them than with Snape. Ron was more or less straining his nerves but Hermione was a true danger to him. Her intelligence was indeed surpassing and she kept a close eye on him. Harry was sure she would not hesitate to inform Dumbledore should something in his behavior arise her suspicion.

He had quickly started to spent more and more time in the library to study. Besides actually helping him in class, the library was a place Ron would never think of going. The disadvantage was that Hermione spent much of her time there. Luckily she had not lost her studious side and did not interrupt him too often while he or she was working.

At the end of their second week at Hogwarts she acted differently.

"Harry," she started carefully, looking up from her Transfiguration essay. "I know that you're angry with me. But I just can't take a side in your and Ron's argument, please understand that-"

Harry sighed irritatedly before pushing the heavy Herbology tome aside that Neville had recommended (_Rare magical plants: The Growth in Russian Summer _by Wassilij Tscherkow III.). "You _did _cast _confundus _on Cormac McLaggen though, didn't you?", he accused her lowly.

Hermione did not answer to that but her raging flush and tightly pressed together lips were answer enough.

Harry had known it immediately. He had seen Hermione's carefully concealed wand movement and McLaggen's legendary fail at catching the Quaffel at the Quidditch tryouts he had held a day ago.

He didn't know what the bitch was trying to get at, she had to see that him and Ron on the same team just could not work. Maybe she thought they would forget their argument over a game of Quidditch but that would not happen, neither in this life nor in an other.

The only thing she had achieved was that Harry was seething and much to his frustration he could not act on it. He was trying hard to adapt and he was doing a rather good job, or so he thought, but he was not used to keeping quiet instead of exposing their and Dumbledore's outrageous scheming. Only the prospect of his revenge and complicating their school year was pleasant to him and helping him with his act.

"How the hell is that not taking a side? We're not even talking to each other, we can't play Qudditch together like this! It's ruining the team, I wonder why Ron did even show up to the tryout...," Harry rambled darkly.

"I only hope that you two would maybe get back to being friends again when playing Quidditch together and honestly Harry, do you want McLaggen on the team?," Hermione tried to placate him.

There she was right – Harry did not want McLaggen but he wanted Ron even less.

"This has nothing to do with McLaggen, Hermione," he snapped. "I don't know what got this idea in your head. Ron and I won't make up over Quidditch, it'll probably only get worse. If he sucks as much as he did last year we'll only argue even more. So you see, you helped neither him nor me."

"Harry! How can you talk like that! Ron's your best mate, don't you miss him at all?," she sounded unsettled.

"No loud talking in the library! Either you are quiet or I'll throw you out," Madam Pince had turned up from behind one of the high book shelves, her eyes scrutinizing, her vulture like face scolding.

"We're sorry, Madam," muttered Hermione.

The librarian made no comment but kept a careful watch on them when quietly making her depart.

When she had left Harry leaned over to Hermione.

"He's not my best mate anymore, and no, I don't miss him at all when he's behaving as he is," he whispered.

"He's going through a hard time right now, Harry. Maybe if you'd just talk to him, he'd see reason," suggested Hermione softly. She had now leaned forward, too, glancing over her shoulder from time to time, checking for Madam Pince.

"_He _is going through a hard time? _He_? I'm sorry I can't see why that should be," he did not sound sorry at all when saying this. "And if he wants to talk _he _can come to _me_."

"He really needs you now, Harry," pleaded the bushy haired witch. "You know how Ron is, he can't show his emotions publicly."

"He's showing his emotions very clearly in the moment, if you ask me. Or his one emotion, which is anger, anger and anger again. He isn't in need for me, he's in need for a psychiatrist. His jealousy is more than a bit extreme."

"It's just hard for him to deal with the situation, you're so exposed to admiration-"

"Yeah, yeah, we already know that Ron's got an inferiority complex," interrupted Harry Hermione. "But I'm beginning to think that he suffers from a severe case of stupidity as well. One would assume that he got it in forth year: my fame is not working to my advantage at all, it rather tends to get me killed. I needed to almost get burned to ashes by a fucking dragon for him to comprehend that I don't want admiration or fame or shit like that, okay? So last year everything was jolly sunshine when people hated me and Umbridge tortured me in detention, yeah? Then Ron was my best mate, cause he had it better than me? And now we're all back to playing nice and oh so united against Voldemort and _surprisingly_ Ronnie's got an other fit of jealousy? Either he's too dumb to see a pattern or he's got amnesia."

Hermione seemed positively shocked. "Do you hear yourself talking, Harry?"

"I'm not deaf."

"You know what I mean! Maybe Ron goes in patterns, yes, but you do, too! Every time one of us does not act to your satisfaction you tell us what a hard life you have and how you don't want it actually and what you had to go through and so on and so forth. Don't get me wrong, Harry, I understand your point, but both you and Ron follow a pattern here and if you ever want to get over with it, one of you has to break with this pattern!"

_I've already broken with the pattern, mudblood._ thought Harry. Aloud he said: "I can't remember that you were too eager to reconcile with Ron in third year."

"But we _did _reconcile," said Hermione defiantly.

"Yes, you did. If I remember correctly the reason was that Buckbeak was supposed to be executed. Seems a kinda high price to me."

"And you don't feel that your friendship is worth enough to go out of your way for it?,"she asked. Another time she would have won him over with it but not now. Not anymore.

"Hermione," he sighed agitatedly. "Why don't you just _drop it_? I have so much to deal with right now if you haven't noticed and I really have no strength left for this. If Ron's not with me, he's not with me in this. I won't go after him. And I'm tired of talking about it. If you got nothing else to say, then shut up."

She looked a bit offended at first before she resigned."Only promise to think about it, Harry, please?"

When he said nothing to that: "You're studying much more than ever I noticed."

"Yes, is that a problem?" asked Harry, his irritation now obvious.

"I'm not against you in this, Harry. I understand that you are under much pressure but that is no reason for your latest impatience. I don't know why you're like this, I'm only trying to help you. In fact I think it's good you study so much, you should have done this for years!" Hermione's transfiguration essay lay under her folded arms, long forgotten.

"But you should also think about not over-working yourself! You have so much going on right now, the weight of the prophecy," here she had lowered her voice to minimum, "your position in the Ministry, those lessons Dumbledore is going to give you and don't forget you're Quidditch captain as well now. It's going to take a lot of your time, you should not forget your personal life over this."

Harry chuckled. "Wow, and there I never thought I'd live to see a time _you _would discourage me from studying."

Hermione brightened up when his mood apparently changed and sighed in relief. "I'm not exactly discouraging you," she corrected him friendly. "I have spent so much time to finally get you studying throughout the last five years, I certainly won't ruin all the hard work now! I just want to tell you that you should try to balance studying and free time. Having some fun is important, too."

"Took you long enough to realize, eh?," asked Harry mockingly.

Hermione could not help but grin. "Maybe."

But Harry quickly sobered again. "The only sad thing is, having fun won't help me fighting Voldemort in the least and if I don't study enough it won't be long until I have no fun anymore ever again."

At that Hermione did something he did not like at all. Comfortingly she took his right hand which had still been hovering over _Rare magical plants: The Growth in Russian Summer _in her owns. "I know, Harry. I'm so sorry for you, if someone doesn't deserve this it's you. Please always know that if you need help come to me. If there's anything I can do for you..."

"I know, Hermione and thank you, you're a real friend." Real friend, yeah sure. Gag. "But I don't think you can help me with this."

"This is so typically you," smiled Hermione sadly. "Always wanting to go through problems alone."

To distract Harry gave a fake laugh. Really, he was sick of her sugar-coated sucking up. "Did you gang up with Ginny or something? She told me about the same this morning."

"Potter!" Pince's breath was tickling his neck in a very unpleasant way. _Fuck, where did she come from so quickly? _Thought Harry. "The library is no place for chatting! Be quiet or leave if you don't want to be banned from this library!"

Harry nodded quickly and concentrated on his book again.

"Maybe we should just go to bed," suggested Hermione when Madam Pince was out of earshot.

Harry nodded. It was nearing eleven pm so retiring seemed only reasonable. And highly attractive. Harry could barely hide a smirk when he collected his things. After all he had found a new hobby.

* * *

Lord Voldemort was in a strange mood. He was truly annoyed and yet at the same time he tried very hard not to laugh out loud.

"Lucius. What do you want?," he drawled, eying the blonde man, the object of his annoyance. The Malfoys had been such a promising family, yet they became more stupid with every generation or so it seemed to him. Who would have thought that Abraxas' son would be such a failure? And Draco promised to be even worse than his father. Politics were Lucius' field, sadly it was his only strength. And now that he had been cast out of his political position, he was good for nothing.

The worst thing was that he was constantly overstepping his boundaries in order to gain Voldemort's favor back.

::Are you sure you don't want to dispose of him? He smells delicious... like he spent all day in the bath tub.:: hissed Nagini while she elegantly climbed up his throne to position herself on his shoulders.

Voldemort felt faint foreign amusement mingling with his own.

*Listening in again, Harry?*

::He probably _does _spend all day in the bath tub.:: he replied sourly to Nagini's suggestion.

She gave a hissed laugh, her tail curled securely around his left arm. ::So he has no worth to you...::

Lucius' eyes followed the large snake uneasily. The low hissing send shivers down his spine and he did his best to ignore the serpent's presence.

Voldemort did not miss his minion's nervousness and fear, even without reading his thoughts. He smirked evilly thinking that Lucius did not even know about the … _culinary _focus Nagini had on him since day one. Maybe he would tell Lucius...

*Yes, please, tell him!* laughed Harry in his head.

"My Lord,I received word from my son, via Narcissa of course," Lucius reassured quickly as he saw Voldemort's darkening expression.

"If you came here to bore me with bragging about your son again, I suggest you leave now," Voldemort interrupted him coldly. "As long as you can still walk..."

He did not want to hear from the brat until Draco had his assignment completed. In the meantime he could have his fun with Lucius... His wife, Narcissa, would probably be a better asset to him, if it weren't for her softness. Pity, she couldn't be more like her sister. The magical skill and power she possessed were truly wasted on such a week thing. But then again he really needn't complain, it only made it easier to control her. She had come begging him, when she had found out about Draco's assignment, to release her precious son. If she had not been so blinded by the love for her son she might have actually understood that her tears and suffering were only one more reason for his sadistic nature not to grant her wish.

"Not at all, my Lord," spluttered Lucius. "It is about Harry Potter, master."

*His display is pathetic.* commented Harry.

Yes, it was. Lucius who had always acted so aloof even towards Voldemort to a certain degree, who had always been so sure about himself was now trying – and failing – to keep his dignity after he had lost favor.

Voldemort continued to stare at Lucius apathetically, showing no hint of interest, not to speak of impression.

"My son informed me that Potter seems to act differently this year...," said Malfoy Sr, his back straight, focused on giving his words more weight.

While the Dark Lord found himself more and more tempted to crucio Lucius for telling him things he already knew or even better just complying with Nagini and be done with it he felt something brush his thighs.

At first he thought he had only imagined it but then the feeling repeated itself, several times, a sensation akin to dancing fingertips. And that he was certainly not imagining.

*It seems you can be quite creative when given time and motivation.* he crooned. If Potter thought he would react ashamed or uncomfortable to this little stunt he was sorely mistaken.

There was no verbal answer just a feeling of strong smugness. The touches continued, not only on his thighs, coming painfully close to his hardening cock but never _touching_.

::What got you so excited? Are you even listening to Lucy over there? You know, to be a good leader you actually have to listen to your-::

::Shut up, Nagini.:: he hissed back. Trust her infrared sight and acute smelling to notice everything.

::Aw, come on, it's not like I'm not familiar with your, er, sexual adventures:: she replied teasingly, her head moving closer to his, her tongue flicking over his cheek.

In his head Harry was roaring with laughter. *Oh, bloody hell, you got a voyeuristic familiar!*

Lucius who had been talking all the while stopped, unsure what to make of the serpent's strange movement and aware that no one's attention was on him any longer.

"Lucius." Voldemort's attention had been directed back to the man by his silence. "Harry Potter is in no way your business. You needn't concern yourself about him any longer. He is … is not a matter anymore."

*Oh, thanks a lot.*

The touches grew only more feelable, seeming even more real.

*I bet you would like to know how I do that!* singsonged Harry.

"But, my Lord, I don't understand...," Lucius frowned, obviously afraid to have made another mistake. "The prophecy..."

"I said it wasn't your concern," snapped Voldemort. "I don't understand you, Lucius... It seems you keep failing, first the diary, then your ridiculous performance at the Ministry and now you keep disappointing me. Maybe I was mistaken? Maybe you were a failure from the very beginning? What do you think, hm?"

Lucius had already shuddered considerably when the diary was mentioned, now he seemed to be at a loss of words.

"I don't know, my Lord..."

*I don't know? What kind of answer is that?*

"But please, I promise to do better in the future!"

::You are evading my question.:: complained Nagini. ::By talking to Lucy."

::Shut up, Nagini. You are distracting me.::

::Oh, now you call it distracting? Why don't you just let me have Lucius? Then I won't bother you any more... for now. He just admitted it... or at least he didn't deny being a failure.:: she persuaded him.

Or better: tried to persuade him.

"So, you promise to do better in the future? You always promise, Lucius, but I wonder will you ever live up to your manifold promises?" Without haste Voldemort got up from his throne, Nagini curling even tighter around him so she would not fall off. He walked close to the blonde man, so that he could see a single drop of sweat on the other man's neck. He could not help but smile. Despite of all his own machinations, his haughtiness, his usual self-consciousness, Lucius was in the end nothing more than a coward.

"You can only hope that Draco will do better than you are doing... If I were you I would lay low. I will not allow any more mistakes on your part." He placed two fingers under Lucius' chin, making the man look at him. Voldemort could easily see how badly Malfoy Sr wanted to flinch but he did not dare. The Dark Lord was finding a wicked amusement in Lucius' torment that was only increasing the affect of Harry's ministrations.

"Or on your son's. To carry my mark, Lucius, is a privilege. A privilege I am not sure you deserve any more, because recently I see a certain _lack of will_ to serve me in you."

Lucius stared at the youthful face in horror, petrified by the malicious glee in the crimson orbs which were eying him unblinkingly.

"My Lord, I am always willing-" he started hastily, but was cut off by being backhanded forcefully.

"Don't lie to me!" hissed Voldemort furiously and Lucius quickly dropped to his knees, his face reddening from the blow and from shame all the same.

*Being hit like a disloyal wife must wound Malfoy's pride immensely.* commented Harry cheerfully.

"I'm sorry-"

Finally the Dark Lord lost his patience. He hated weakness more than anything else and it aggressed him more than anything else. He enjoyed strong opponents, opponents who posed a challenge to him, but a weak opponent intrigued him on another level, a more animalistic one. Seeing such weakness caused him to feel a sadistic fascination and an almost lustful want to cause the other pain. Lucius had made himself a victim.

He kicked the blonde hard in his face and was awarded with a sickening _crack _and a muffled scream.

Sexual tension mixed with aggression, creating an overpowering need to release.

"You are pathetic," laughed Voldemort, his young voice almost casual. "Luckily for you I have more important business to tend to than your death, although I would enjoy that very much. Now out of my sight, before I change my opinion."

::More important business? You mean your erection.:: It wasn't a question.

::Silence, Nagini.:: he ordered sharply.

::Yes, master.::

There was blood on the dark, marmoreal floor and on his boot, too. As well as Lucius face his nose looked blue and swollen. The blonde man scurried from the room, only once glancing back at his Lord, a look of fear and suppressed, but growing hatred on his face. The only answer he got was a taunting smirk that seemed to irk him to do something stupid.

::A pity you let him walk away.:: hissed Nagini, sounding honestly disappointed.

Voldemort did not comment on that. ::I'm going to sleep:: he said dismissively.

Nagini hissed suspiciously. ::Hn. If you say so.::

* * *

There was white everywhere. Shining brightly, almost hurting the eyes, such a clean shade that they seemed to sit in an endless snowy field. There were blankets, too, somehow resembling a bed but it all stretched out infinitely, loosing contours in the whiteness.

He found it very funny. Harry, judged by his expression, found it surprising, confusing even.

"What is this?," asked Harry, unsure what to make of this bizarre location.

"A dream," answered Voldemort, looking down his own body, it seemed almost alien how his pale skin contrasted only barely with the surroundings. Harry was not nearly as pale as he was but his bare body reflected the whiteness, that accented his jet black hair and emerald eyes beautifully. He smiled. "_My dream._"

"Everything is so... white." Yes, Harry was definitely confused.

"Is there something wrong with that?," he asked casually.

"No, it's just unexpected," said the dark haired teen. "But it doesn't really matter."

"No, it doesn't," agreed Voldemort. He watched Harry attentively, seeing every muscle flex under the soft skin that was still slightly flawed by fainting bruises. Seeing his prize, his precious horcrux, his _chosen one_ being hurt by another than himself left an aftertaste of rage on his tongue. He was sitting upright and spread his legs wide in invitation. "I believe there was something you wanted to finish."

The other only smiled in anticipation, moving closer to place his hands on the older man's knees. The white, silky blankets rustled under Harry's thin body as the boy bent slowly downwards, placing his soft, hot mouth on his former enemy's semi-erect shaft.

Voldemort could not help but gasp in pleasure, his eyes glued to the teen who slowly but surely proceeded to swallow him completely while his hands moved up and down his thighs in a teasing manner.

He stretched out a hand to touch Harry's hair, knotting his fingers with the unruly, raven strands. It took all of his self discipline not to pin the boy down on him and mouth-fuck him until he screamed for mercy when that wet tongue lick along the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock.

This, this slow, mocking touch was torture. But it was oh so sweet. And besides, Harry Potter's pain would be so much more entertaining when they met in person.

Harry lazily sucked and nibbled on the head of his sex pushing his tongue against the small slit.

He was pulsing hard and painfully now, it would not be long anymore until he had to cum. It was then that Harry withdrew without any sort of forewarning.

"Why do you stop?," demanded Voldemort irritatedly.

"Because I want you to fuck me," Harry narrowed his eyes defiantly, craving radiating from him in waves.

The Dark Lord could not help but laugh. Throwing his head back he laughed inordinately, gleefully and truly amused.

"If that is your wish I will indulge you," he said, pulling Harry onto his lap. "No turning around. I want to see your face."

They positioned themselves so that his cock was rubbing Harry's entrance. "This is only a dream. No harm can come to your body."

"I know," Potter seemed unfazed by this statement, almost disinterested, he only smiled lasciviously, willing Voldemort to go on.

The latter was only too eager to comply, pushing in forcefully – a feat that was only possible because this was in fact a dream, a world where no rules applied, a world without conventions.

Harry screamed, whether from pain or from ecstasy he could not say, maybe it was both and he wondered faintly if anyone would hear this scream, whether or not it was performed by Harry's physical body instead of being only in his mind.

Harry dug his nails into Voldemort's ankles, almost drawing blood while he hurriedly met with the thrusts that now came fast and hard.

The older male could feel moist warm blood, dripping on the radiantly white sheets, light and fresh. There were no clear forms anymore, the dream was taking on a life of its own, his subconsciousness producing wicked excrescences. He was feeling like falling backwards, burning pain exploding in his whole body and on some level he thought this had to be Harry's pain he was feeling and it mixed with this craving, this need and this pleasure in a way he was unable to fully comprehend.

Harry's moves suddenly became almost spastic, like a muscle cramp, indicating that his pleasure point had been found. It was like an explosion, ripping apart the last of ratio, every ability to perform anything close to a clear thought.

Voldemort felt disconnected from his body, he _knew_ it was moving somewhere, without really feeling it, overruled spasms of sexuality.

"You!" he screamed in disorientation. "You are the sweetest victory!"

Harry might have replied something to that but his mind was in state that could not process verbal speech anymore.

There was a scent so sweet, so intriguing, as arousing as an aphrodisiac and as enticing as a drug. It came from everywhere and nowhere and the smell was red, crimson, blood red. Bending his head down, he just had to taste it without knowing why, only knowing that he _had to._

He sipped the blood that was tickling from Harry's anus, and while he could not feel the actual movements he must have made he could feel the touch, could taste. It was rusty and sweet and yet it tasted like nothing, tasted so indefinable, so much more delightful than anything else, that it was intoxicating.

That this feet was physically impossible since they were actually still fucking was completely beyond him.

It was all so tight and intensive.

It was full of pain and frenzy.

It was pure want and desire.

It was beyond reason and reality.

It was an excess.

And suddenly it was over.

His eyes snapped open when Voldemort came so hard that it almost hurt, his sweaty hair plastered against his face, he lay in the clammy silk sheets as if he was feverish. His breathing was labored, his heart pounding angrily in his chest.

It was something he had never felt like before. The absolute loss of control that this dream had been was a new experience for him. Not only had it been a loss of control, it had been a complete loss of reality.

Never before had someone been able to make him feel like that, had given him so much satisfaction. A mean, almost greedy smile spread over his face as he thought about how much fun Harry Potter was going to be.

Deep inside of him spread a triumphant possessiveness he tended to feel every time he had obtained a _trophy_, an item that he felt connected to, that symbolized his own greatness.

Amongst those items (which he had mostly made into horcruxes) Harry was special. It seemed almost destined that Harry had received a part of his soul seemingly by incident. It was as if the boy had been made to carry it.

Potter was a horcrux with an independent, conscious mind and human intelligence and he belonged to the Dark Lord fully, bound to him in a way more intimate than anything else could be. In this combination Harry could serve him in ways none of his sniveling minions would ever be able to.

Yes, Harry Potter was a unique and precious possession, one that was going to entertain him highly and he would certainly not share that. (Not that he shared anything in general.)

* * *

Harry's emotional state the next morning would have been best called unstable. He was inadequately surprised that he found his body in one piece in his bed still, instead of being reduced to a spastic mass, for he had already confirmed that in the middle of the night.

To find out that his body had indeed stayed unaffected (apart from his quite remarkable orgasm, whose evidence he had managed to order Kreacher to remove in the middle of the night despite his worked up state) left him oddly disappointed.

He wondered if he should be concerned that he had demanded pain from Voldemort. He had never craved for physical pain before and the fact that he now increased his lust by being subjected to torturous sex methods was something new.

The only cause for this he could think of was that up to now pain had always been the domineering factor in his relationship to Voldemort. It was oddly familiar and somehow the thought that he was not unwillingly subjected to that pain as he had been with Vernon but had craved and called for it turned him on. Then there was the fact that he was going against every expectation, he was not supposed to get off on letting the Dark Lord hurt him in a degrading, sexual way, he was supposed to be a shining role model hero who defeated Voldemort and the man's immorality.

And while Harry was wandering aimlessly through the dormitory early in the morning, trying to get his thoughts in order an owl tapped at the window. He walked by the window three times in confusion and ready to wank off then and there before he actually thought of opening it.

The owl was for him. Well, not the owl, just the letter she delivered. It was from Remus and brought Harry back to his usual focus on the here and now.

He sat on his four poster bed and unfolded the parchment.

_Dear Harry,_ Moony had written,

_I did tell the owl to deliver this letter as fast as possible. I hope you are alone when you receive this because I thought you might want to contemplate what I have written unhurriedly._

_Sirius death has changed a lot for me. I have lost him once to Azkaban and now I have lost him a second time – and there is no coming back anymore._

_I want you to know a few things, Harry: first of all, I do not blame you for his death and you shouldn't do it either. It was not your fault._

_Secondly, I want to say that I am sorry. I hope you can forgive my weakness, Harry. When I lost Sirius to Azkaban I did not have enough faith to be sure of his innocence. Had I been stronger and fought for my brother we could have given you something close to a family. In that I failed, I failed you, I failed your parents and I failed Sirius. For that I am sorry. For my weakness._

_I only tell you this because I trust you and I feel that you deserve to know. You may see this as betrayal, but please know that I would never betray you. But I have no strength anymore. I have lost Lily and James to this war, I have lost Peter to the darkness and now Sirius is gone, too. I have no one left and I cannot fight anymore. I know I am failing you again, I am failing to protect the son of my best friends. I mourn it and I would understand if you condemned me for this only too well but I can't see any good in this anymore._

_If you ever need me I will be there for you. But I won't be the same that I was before. The summer, Sirius' death has changed me a lot. If you still want we can meet in Hogsmead._

_Yours, Moony._

Harry did not reread the letter, he just confirmed their meeting on the backside and sent the whole thing back with the owl.

After that he went down to breakfast without another interruption.

* * *

**I hope you liked it. I tried to do something new with the slash scene and break a bit from the old dream cliché. How did you like it? Any suggestions what was good, what sucked, how I could improve?**

**Review please! Reviews=Love!**

**Oh, and I wanted to say, sorry Luci... ahem, I swear I'll make you look better later on.^^**


	16. Memories

**Again I have to say sorry for the ridiculously long wait and hope to calm my dear readers with a ridiculously long chapter =). You will recognize part of this chapter as part of the HBP canon chapter "The Gaunt House". This chapter does not include the whole memory that was in canon so I humbly ask you to bear the parts you already know with patience. I saw no sense in altering the memory somehow, but I still had to mention it. There will not be toomuch of those memories in this story (in detail at least) because while it was extremely important in canon it doesn't have to much impact in this spin off. Now enjoy the read, my dears!**

**Disclaimer: The parts taken from 'the Gaunt house' in HBP belong to JKR word for word as does HP, his world, all the other charas and so on...**

**Burning Desire**

**Memories**

The first weeks passed quickly for Harry and September faded in October before he had even realized. Much to the students displeasure all teachers acted as if the N.E.W.T. exams were due in a few days and gave them accordingly much work. "You can't be prepared enough", "Start organizing your recapitulation parallel to your exercises" or "At your current knowledge level not many of you will pass the N.E.W.T.s" were sentences commonly dealt out in all of their courses.

From what Harry had heard from Lavender and Parvati even Trealawney had increased the amount of "work" or rather the amount of bullshit. He was just glad that he had dumped Divination.

The general mood of the sixth years had been quite depressed, most grumbling about exaggerating teachers and cursing their N.E.W.T. preparations. Only Hermione seemed to gloat, not even trying to hide her satisfaction that the teachers were making them work harder.

"You should be glad, Ronald." she was heard saying. "You only ever start learning last minute. Now you're _forced _to prepare. You don't want to fail your N.E.W.T.s, do you? Because if you would go about this like you did the last five years you would certainly fail them."

Ron Weasley was not the only own scowling at her in response.

While all of this was not surprising in the slightest, most Gryffindors were almost shocked to find one Harry Potter, not only doing all of his work, all by himself too, but even _organizing his recapitulation parallel to his exercises_ as the teachers had suggested. That in addition to his new found mastery in Potions they began to think that he was slowly but surely turning into a know-it-all no. 2 under Hermione's influence.

And indeed Hermione was very pleased with Harry's willingness to learn. What displeased her greatly at the same time was that Harry's behavior made Ron even more lazy, since the red head had started to oppose everything that Harry did or said.

This aggravated not only the bushy haired girl but many other Gryffindors as well, especially those who were on the quidditch team. Their training sessions were a catastrophe. There was no team play at all, Ron was unable to play alongside Harry, the tension between them unsettling the rest of the team, and rendering them to irritable nervousness. On top of their constant arguments resulting from the fact that Cormac McLaggen had made a habit of watching their sessions as if to remind them that they would have been much better off with him on the team instead of Ron.

Most players seemed to agree to McLaggen's silent message what only served to set Ron off further. Their playing and strategy suffered from all of that immensely and Harry was determined to kick Ron out of the team for hindering their training should the next opportunity arise. He wasn't too happy with that solution though, because then he would have to deal with McLaggen.

In the end Hermione's scheme to get Ron on the team had only served to enlarge the gap between them, something she sadly realized and she quit trying to push them together and construct a reunion.

Much to Harry's annoyance Ron had taken deep offense in the fact that Hermione had not stopped to spend time with him instead of siding completely with the red head. Therefor they did not get along too well either in the moment. Normally Harry could not have cared less what was going on between his treacherous, backstabbing ex friends but this meant that Hermione spent more time with him when Ron was in one of his moods.

Now bereft of company Ron tried to get closer to the other Gryffindors and he was not dumb enough to openly complain about Harry in front of them, which would have been frowned upon heavily after Harry's "heroic" performance in the Department of Mysteries end of last term. Now that he was not constantly hanging around Harry and Hermione, he had noticed the attention of one Lavender Brown.

Sadly, that was something that had not evaded Hermione's watchful gaze either. She was jealous and complained determinedly. To Harry. Just great.

Harry was trying his best to ignore all of this as well as the building aggression he felt as he lent over his charms essay in the common room. This evening he had decided against slipping off to the library. He could not stand Hermione's undivided attention right now. In the common room Neville was doing a great job distracting the mudblood by getting her to help him while she constantly glared at Ron who was playing wizarding chess with Seamus while being watched by Lavender and glaring at Harry.

*Aw, only doing assignments again?*

Harry sighed heavily and leaned back in his arm chair. Maybe it had been a bad idea to watch Voldemort in his sleep. They had started the bad habit of observing each other while they slept and admittedly the sex was great when they _both _slept. But when only one of them slept... for Harry it was an easy way to stay updated. Voldemort though had obviously taken an obsessively fascinated interest in the possibilities of this mind connection. He seemed bent on testing his limits, which sometimes resulted in heavy headaches for Harry or an overflow of foreign emotions. Of course he sought revenge when he was the one sleeping but unfortunately Voldemort was far more skilled in throwing him out of his mind with Occlumency.

Harry did most of the time not know whether to be annoyed by this or glad to have some company. Or flattered for receiving so much attention, not that he would admit that.

*I am going to _school_ here. This is what I do. I'm a student. I'm not here to amuse _you. _The occasions were I fight dragons, acrumantulas, werewolfs or basilisks are actually rare. Especially now that you stopped trying to kill me.* Harry stated.

*Bored?*

*I can manage.* he replied. *Actually, I wish I didn't have to deal with all of this.*

And he meant it. Even without his new double life he had enough to do, working for his classes, organizing the quidditch training, plus his argument with Ron which was openly watched by the rest of his house, no wait, by the _rest of the school_. And he knew that this was not all, Scrimgeour would probably call in on their deal soon enough and there was still the issue with Draco Malfoy. No, boredom was truly unlikely to settle in.

Harry grabbed his charms book, setting it down in his lap. Sighing he scribbled on his essay, while surveying the text in the book.

He blinked angrily as the letters blurred in front of his, his head swirling as his own concentration struggled against another consciousness.

*Would you _stop _that for once?* he snapped irritatedly, slammed the book shut and leaned his head back, eyes closed.

*No.* thought Voldemort simply and continued who knows what he was doing.

"You have already finished Harry?" asked Hermione a bit astounded, still pondering over her essay with Neville.

"No," snapped Harry irritatedly, snapping his head at her so quickly that his neck made an unhealthy cracking sound.

Hermione's face reddened in offense and Neville made an overly distracted face, obviously a bit embarrassed.

Harry rubbed his neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so-" he started and then:

..._I don't know who's worse at the moment, Potter or Ron. How I hate this, it's all Ron's fault, just why had he to make Potter so offended, it's even worse than last year, trying to give us the gilt trip, and Ronald, that brain dead idiot isn't even here, he doesn't bother with this, no, I have to put up __with him [Potter]! Oh, I'm going to put you in line, idiot, before Dumbledore puts you and before you're no longer part of the deal, Ron..._

"...er," made Harry. "I think I'm feeling _sick."_

His eyes flickered to Neville, no longer able to look at that _fucking whore_ or he might just try to crush her skull with his charms book for her audacious thoughts, crack, crack, crack, he could almost see it...

..._I wonder what's up with Harry. He doesn't look good, how pale he is! He seems not himself lately, the argument with Ron must have really unsettled him..._

Neville, realized Harry. The shy boy's thoughts angered him almost even more than Granger's. He didn't need pity, and the only distress Ron was causing him, was that Harry had to tolerate the red head's ongoing existence, not their childish argument.

The thoughts Harry heard only agitated him further but he suddenly seemed unable to look anywhere but some person.

"Harry, maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey if you aren't feeling well," suggested Hermione, frowning.

Harry did not look at her as he answered. "I'm not a mimosa, Hermione. I don't need to see our constantly underchallenged nurse because of every indisposition."

His eyes shifted over to Ron.

_...get him to notice me? He only wants to play chess, boring. I wonder if he's kissed Hermione Granger..._ Lavender Brown fancied Ron? Harry felt nauseated. Disgusting.

… _I'm really glad to have a break from that wanker. Wonder what's twisted his knickers now? Just leave Hermione alone, you bloody tosser, think you're so special, how can she put up such a show, Merlin, sometimes that girl's really not normal. A good kiss would surely loosen her up..._

And Ron fancied Hermione? That controlling mudblood bitch?

"Harry, this is obviously not nothing! You look as if you're close to fainting, please what's wrong?" pleaded Hermione.

*Stop it now! I hate them all, I hate them so much...* Harry's hands clenched and unchlenched violently.

"Nothing is wrong," he growled. "Just leave me be for a second." Finally looking at Hermione again, there was silence in his head. She seemed unsettled and Neville looked worried as well.

Harry couldn't help but smile a little, imagining their expressions turning into shock and fear...

*Imagine, Harry, how sweet her dirty blood would look, spilled over the carpet, red on red, bereft of all life...* whispered Voldemort in his mind.

Morbid fascination, an almost crazed want to _hurt_ swept through Harry, maybe his own, maybe not, their feelings oddly sweeping in each other, mingling until they were one swirl of emotions.

Harry closed his eyes again, pressing his head back into the soft cushion of his arm chair.

*Why are you doing this? Do you want me to slip up? What use would it be to you if I blew my cover? Or do you simply want to taunt me? Make this waiting even less bearable for me? Is this revenge for all the years you had to wait to rise to power again? What? There is no other purpose... I don't expect you to help me, but must you hinder me?*

*What interesting explanations you come up with, my horcrux. But you assume too much.*

*What is it then? Will you tell me?*

*You agreed to be mine, to belong to me... you gave yourself to me, to do with you as I please. I don't need to give you my reasons.* reminded the Dark Lord him smugly.

*You are hellbent on making my life more complicated, aren't you? When I agreed to your deal, I did not, I did never agree to relinquish control over my own life. And I will never do that.* stated Harry defiantly.

*But you already have, Harry. By accepting to serve me, you have done so... it's a one way ticket, a lifelong contract. Even more so for you, you are bound to me closer than anyone else could dream of. You are a part of my soul and I will never let you go … but is that so bad, Harry? I can give you everything you want. What I am doing is for your best, to try out all capabilities of our bond can prove to become very useful. And you can rest assured, Harry, that protecting you is very important to me. By endangering you I would only endanger myself.*

*So you can give me what I want? Then let me tell you what I want the most is to be accepted, not for what I am, for what I portray but for who I am, simply for being Harry. I want to be my own person.*

*And you think I don't do that?*

*Obviously. Even you only see me as the vessel of your soul. Is that the reason you want to fuck me so badly? Because I am the second embodiment of yourself?*

"Harry? Hey, Harry, um, were you sleeping, sorry, if I woke you...," someone said.

Harry opened his eyes rather unwillingly, now feeling a strange sort of sadness, his aggression had faded and left him eerily empty.

"No, it's okay, Ginny, I wasn't sleeping, not really...," he answered, smiling faintly.

Ginny smiled back and slowly sat down on the armrest of his chair.

"You don't look good, Ginny... what's the matter? I mean, if you don't want to talk about it...," Harry said, noticing her slightly reddened eyes.

*Maybe that is part of the reason I want 'to fuck you so badly'.* Harry tensed as he heard Voldemort's answer, laced with unfazed amusement. *But don't you see what yourself, your person, you, just Harry, are to me?*

"You don't look too well either, Harry. You shouldn't work so much... See, I'd really like to talk now, but that has to wait. I have a message for you. Professor Dumbledore wants to see you and I should tell you 'it's chocolate frog', whatever that is supposed to mean." said Ginny.

Harry laughed mirthlessly at Ginny's bewildered pronouncement of _it's chocolate frog_. "That sounds like him... I guess I'll have to go then. Thanks for telling me, G."

*The boy you wanted to kill for fifteen years? Other than that I'm at a loss here.* Harry answered dryly – guessing games were not at all to his liking, he had probably had too many with Dumbledore already.

He stood up putting the essay back in his bag along with the charms book.

"You're not going to hand your essay in like this?" screeched Hermione, seeing Harry's less than accurate script as he stuffed the essay rather unceremoniously in between his schoolbooks. "Wait, Harry, where are you going?"

Harry gave a stressed sigh. "Professor Flitwick never complained in the last five years, so why should I start rewriting my essays now to make them look neater? I'm going for a walk, talk to you later."

*You, Harry, are the proof that I am right. Not the boy who lived, trying to save his life, or the chosen one of the fake prophecy, seeking revenge, but yourself, with your heritage and all of the experiences in your life, acknowledging my ideology as right … if even you, despite being a horcrux, despite being faulted by Dumbledore have to admit that my worldview is correct, it would make an incredible difference. You have enough reason to hate me, everyone knows that. I'm sure I'm not the only one who will notice this.*

Harry silently left the common room, contemplating this. Voldemort was right. He had had several reasons for having made the choice that he made. As the boy who lived, to save his life. As the chosen one to act out his revenge. But just as Harry, the boy who spent eleven years of his life in a cupboard? Who wanted nothing more than to be accepted as himself, his true self, that never really came to flourish? He had no reason to stay with Voldemort. But he had indeed admitted that Voldemort was right, right with his racist concepts of pure blood supremacy, maybe not pureblood, but at least _wizarding _supremacy, right with his contempt for the widespread attitude of hangers-on as Harry had seen in Umbridge and Fudge, right, although maybe not fully rational with his ideas of genocide. Although that might be because genocide to such an extent was not quite imaginable and therefore it was hard to comprehend what the idea really meant.

Yet, this was not the main reason for joining Voldemort, neither was that Harry hoped to get any comfort or warmth from the man, something he'd hungered for as a child. He was not sure he even wanted that anymore, the whole concept seemed alien to him by now and the hollow image of friendship Ron and Hermione had given him was worthless.

What he received was acceptance and although he had no wish to associate closely with any of Voldemort's Deatheaters, some of them were more similar to Harry than anyone else he'd met.

Harry had been used to being the freak, the boy, for his relatives he'd been too abnormal, for Ron he'd been too famous, for Draco Malfoy he'd ironically been too kind, for most Gryffindors too closed, for Severus Snape too much like his father. He figured that amongst the Deatheaters where a number of people who somehow had not fit in, first and foremost probably Bellatrix Lestrange, who was far too insane to be accepted, the Malfoys who were too rich, Dora Tonks who was even for wizards too different, Barty Crouch Jr who'd been too unlike his family, Severus Snape, who'd been too much of a looser as a teenager and not at least Tom Riddle, who'd probably simply been too powerful.

Although there was no comfort in this thought itself it still helped to know that he wasn't alone.

* * *

After Harry had left the common room, Hermione returned apparently calm to finishing her own assignment with Neville. From the corner of her eye she saw Ginny sit over in a corner with Dean, laughing and – at least that was what Dean's wild gesturing implied – discussing some qidditch move. Ron was once again focused on his chess match with Seamus, exchanging a few words with a very excited Lavender Brown every now and then.

Nothing of that put Hermione out of her ease – or so it seemed. While indeed rather restless on the inside she purposely took her time to go over the smallest details with Neville. Even when they had finished she did not rush, she waited, turned to reading up on old runes until the chess match and Ron's socializing were done. In truth she would have liked nothing more than to go over, hex Lavender and talk some sense into Ron.

And as much as she would have liked to just let go, like the one time when she had slapped Draco Malfoy, she new that a cool demeanor was more helpful in keeping control over a situation. That was why she would be successful in talking sense into Ron.

So she waited and her waiting paid off indeed.

When Ron had finished with his stupid small talk and childish activities, he hesitantly walked over to her.

"Hey", he said a bit lamely, falling in the armchair Harry had left behind empty. Really she wondered sometimes, no, she wondered _often_, why she liked him so much. Despite all of her intelligence, which she undoubtedly possessed in a surpassing amount, this was an occurrence not understandable to Hermione Jean Granger.

"Ronald," she began sweetly. "We have to talk."

He swallowed, noticing her false calamity. "'bout what?"

"_About what?_", Hermione repeated incredulously. Was she actually the only one with a brain around here? She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Ron, you need to make up with Harry! I mean it. You're his supposed best friend and really, it's no wonder he doesn't want to talk to you anymore after your reaction to his deal with the Ministry."

Momentarily Ron got angry, it was visible in the furious reddening of his freckled face. "Are you on his side now or what? You say it yourself he's unbearable to be around and now that he doesn't have to hide his sorry face anymore after the show at the Ministry he thinks he can play the star again? He's behaving like Malfoy, it's disgusting." He then suddenly grabbed her arm, hard. Hermione flinched in surprise, but was glad that he was at least whispering as well. "But you don't think so now, do you? Tell me, is there something between the two of you? Is there?"

Hermione was a tad shocked. She had never seen Ron so angry, what was up with him? Briefly she wondered if she'd evaluated him wrong. But no.

"Let go of my arm, you're hurting me," she demanded, upset.

Ron seemed surprised for a moment. He stared down at his own hand, that was tightly fastened around the girl's wrist before he hastily let go. "I'm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

Hermione took a breath. Why did he have to be so complicated, still? "It's okay. Look, I hate Harry, too, and I understand that you enjoy your break from him, but you _have to make up._ Think, it won't be long until Dumbledore takes notice of this and if he thinks there'll be no recollection between the two of you, he will stop supporting you. I know you need his _support_ and just right now you're absolutely risking it! And you don't want to put his attention on us... I've really tried to learn Occlumency, but it won't work. We have to avoid Dumbledore and drawing his attention does not really help."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Hermione, I'm really not sure anymore if that's a good idea..."

"Of course it is," she snapped. "Don't you back down! If he finds out about me, he'll know that you're in on this as well, remember that."

"Hey, I won't back out. You're right. I'll make up with Harry. But honestly, Dumbledore? We should blow this off," said Ron.

Hermione smiled in satisfaction. "No, we won't blow it off. Dumbledore's an old man and his time is over anyways. This will work out just perfectly. Just... what about Ginny?"

"What about her?," asked Ron.

She huffed in annoyance. "Ron, could you at least try to think sometimes? Ginny's getting closer and closer to Harry... are you sure she'll hold her tongue? We can't have her spilling our secrets."

"Nah, she knows her loyalty lies with the family." Ron said.

"Like Percy knew that?"

Ron sighed. "Fine, I'll go talk to my sister. She won't betray us."

"Maybe you can enlighten her regarding our plan... don't tell her anything, just encourage her to fulfill her part., will you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, whatever, I will. So where did Harry go anyways?"

"He said he'd go for a walk but he isn't. I'll ask him when he gets back," Hermione answered. And naturally he would tell her, after all she was his best friend. Sometimes she wondered why Dumbledore had even set Ron up to this. Because an 11 year-old boy would rather befriend a boy than a girl? Or perhaps he was really getting the senile old coot Fudge had liked to portray him as. Would only serve her plans.

* * *

"Harry, my boy!" he was greeted upon setting food in the school's established headmaster's office. "I see you received my message."

Harry forced a smile in his face. "Yes, sir. If I may ask, sir, why did you want to see me? Is this about the lessons you wanted to give me?"

"Always right to the point, and yes, you're right this is about our – for the lack of a better word – lessons. But please, have a seat, my dear boy," Dumbledore's eyes held their usual grandfatherly twinkle, just that Harry did not find it grandfatherly anymore at all, he abhorred it. He felt Dumbledore's mind touch his and as he had learned from his _dear_ tutor Bellatrix he let the false memories flow. In contrary to his exercises with Snape, his feelings did not hinder him to close his mind this time, his hatred actually empowered his determinacy not to let Dumbledore slip in. He could although feel the gleeful glow of Voldemort's presence when they both felt Dumbledore withdrawing.

It was in no way flattering how fast the headmaster was satisfied, obviously he had extremely little regard for his student's mental shields, but also decidedly relieving.

Wordlessly Harry sat down and regarded Dumbledore expectantly.

*I wonder what he'll teach you... It doesn't look like he would train you in duelling.* mused the Dark Lord.

Harry had noticed that, too. Dumbledore's office looked just as it always did, there had not been made room for spell, fighting or target practice.

*I would be surprised if he did... after all I have to die in his plan.*

"To answer your question, Harry, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."

There was a pause. Even in his head reigned an eery silence.

"I thought you had said at the end of last term that you would tell me everything. Sir." asked Harry. The whole 'truth'.

*What exactly happened to Dumbledore's hand?*

*Er.. what?* Harry thought Voldemort might not even have noticed the headmaster's words while Harry did not pay much notice to the blackened hand. *He returned like that to the new term... did Snape not tell you that?*

"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guess work. From here in, Harry, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

*No. Snape did not tell me.* answered Voldemort.

"Erm... but you think that you're right?," asked Harry. Cheese cauldron, really.

*Well, I've no idea how he got that, he wouldn't tell.* hr thought.

*I've a pretty good idea were he injured himself like that … I just wonder why he did. Fact is that Dumbledore will die sooner or later, how long he has left I cannot say for sure, since right now I'm unable to estimate how strongly the curse is being suppressed.*

"Naturally I do, but as I have proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being – please forgive me – rather cleverer than most man, my mistakes are correspondingly huger."

Yes, Harry was well aware of that, having experienced being a pawn in Dumbledore's sheme's to fullest degree.

*You know how Dumbledore got injured? How? And what did he do? Does he know that he will die?*

*The symptoms Dumbledore's hand shows, are the symptoms of coming into contact with the curse I used to protect one of my horcruxes, the one I verified Dumbledore has destroyed this summer. But for the curse to activate he must have tried to use it but that's not like him. Dumbledore would not act so foolishly... and yes, I think he knows that he will die. Maybe that is the reason for those lessons, he wants you to be prepared for your role even when he is no more at that time. I would say he has a year, maximum.*

"Sir," asked Harry, "does that what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me survive?" He would be honestly surprised if it did … or was Dumbledore going to tell him about horcruxes finally? It seemed likely, for he was clearly not here for duelling lessons. Or would it just be another concocted version of the truth?

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, as casually as if Harry had asked him about the next days weather. Harry seethed, of course Dumbledore could be casual about it, but the knowledge the Dumbledore would die sooner or later was soothing. "And I certainly hope that it will help you to survive."

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry, who turned eagerly ans suspiciously at the same time in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Harry.

*This might make things more complicated. Knowing that he will die, will make Dumbledore speed up his plans, whatever they are.* Suspicion was deeply embedded in those words, showing Harry that even Voldemort was weary of Dumbledore's manipulations.

*What about Snape? Him not telling you about Dumbledore's hand sounds like he's loyal to the light if you ask me.*

*I wouldn't disagree. I will talk to him.*

*Yeah, do that. I wouldn't mind having no DADA lessons with him for a week or so.* thought Harry, that 'talking' did not mean talking.

"You look worried." remarked Dumbledore.

"I did not necessarily have the best of experiences with Pensieves, sir," answered Harry.

But Dumbledore was smiling. "This time you enter the Pensieve with me and, even more unusually, with permission."

*There I have to disappoint you. You'll get your teacher back, healthy and well.*

*Just great.*

"Where are we going, sir?" Harry was, despite his aversion against even being in the same room with the headmaster, very curious about what was going to happen, because he simply could not imagine what Dumbledore thought was necessary to show him.

"For a trip down Bob Odgen's memory lane," said Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.

"Who was Bob Odgen?"

"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand Harry..."

*Do you have any idea what the memory might show?*

*No, I haven't. I've never heard of a Bob Odgen.* answered Voldemort, quite curious himself Harry could tell.

"After you," said Dumbledore, gesturing towards the bowl.

Harry bent forwards, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling, through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before his eyes had adjusted, Dumbledore landed beside him.

They were standing in a country lane bordered by high, tangled hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-not. Harry felt eerily reminded of his summer holidays, but quickly pushed the feeling of deja-vu aside. Some ten feet in front of them stood a short, plump man wearing enormously thick glasses that reduced his to molelike specks. He was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the brambles on the left side of the road. He that this man had to be Bob Odgen, he was the only person in sight and he was also wearing the strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look like muggles: in this case, a frock-coat and spats over a striped one-piece bathing costume. Before Harry had time to do more than register his bizarre appearance, however, Odgen had set off at a brisk walk down the lane.

*Can you see this... the memory?* Harry asked, he had no idea whether the Pensieve did somehow influence his mind link with Voldemort.

*Yes, I can see it.* answered Voldemort reluctantly.

Dumbledore and Harry followed Odgen, passing the wooden sign. Harry looked up at its two arms . The one pointing back the way they had come read: 'Great Hangleton, 5 miles'. The arm pointing after Odgen said: 'Little Hangleton, 1 mile'.

Harry realized that his feeling of deja-vu had not been unfounded and a strange kind of anticipation started to build up in him. They walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and the seishing, frock-coated figure ahead, then the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley laid out in front of them. Harry could see the village of Little Singleton, nestled between two steep hills, its church and graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite, was the manor house, Harry knew very well. Yet it was surrounded by a rather unfamiliar expanse of velvety green lawn.

Harry almost opened his mouth to ask what year it was they were in, so taken aback was he by the difference in the known surroundings. He realized that the events shown in this memory must have occurred way back. The changes time had made in Little Hangleton were obvious. Even if the village had not seemed entirely modern to Harry in summer, there was no comparison to what he was seeing now.

Odgen had broken into a reluctant trot due to the step down slope. Dumbledore lengthened his stride and Harry hurried to keep up. He wondered what would be their final destination, but knew it would be no use making speculations especially not towards Dumbledore's motives. Then the lane curved to the right, and when they rounded the corner, it was to see the very edge of Odgen's frock-coat vanishing through a gap in the hedge.

Dumbledore and Harry followed him on to a narrow dirt track bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows than those they had left behind. The path was crooked, rocky and potholed, sloping downhill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened up at the copse, and Dumbledore and Harry came to a halt behind Odgen, who had stopped and drawn his wand.

Harry wondered where _the hell _they were and what Odgen, a Ministry representative would be doing here, in the middle of nowhere. Even though Harry had spent a greater deal of time wandering around Little Hangleton this summer he'd not come around to this far-off location.

*Do you know this place?* he asked, his curiousness and confusion taking hold over him, even making him forget that he was with Dumbledore and that he actually wanted nothing more than to get out of the man's aggravating presence since he could not _hurt _him.

*Yes.* The answer sounded kind of pressed, laced with a sense of uncomfortable foreboding and it put Harry on edge regarding what would be about to happen.

His eyes had discerned a half-hidden building in the suddenly deeper shadows, of ancient looking trees, blocking all the light and the view of the valley below. He wondered whether it was inhabited; its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. But someone had to live there, why else would Odgen be here?

Just then one of the windows was thrown open with a clatter and a thin trickle of steam or smoke issued from it, as though somebody was cooking.

Odgen moved forwards quietly and, it seemed to Harry, rather cautiously. As the dark shadows of trees slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake.

And before Harry could make up his mind any more what this might turn out to be or how it would have any significance, there was a rustle and a crack and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on his feet right in front of Odgen, who leapt backwards so fast that he stood on the tails of his frock-coat and stumbled.

::You're not welcome.::

The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt that it could have been any color. Several of his teeth were missing. His eyes were small and dark and stared into opposite directions. He might have looked comical, but he did not; the effect was frightening, and Harry could not blame Odgen for backing away several more paces before he spoke.

"Er – good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic-"

::You're not welcome.::

Now Harry's mind caught up to what he had missed before, his eyes widened as he tried to make sense of his new observation.

*He's speaking Parseltongue! Who's that man? If he can speak it then it means he must be... he must be related to the Slytherin line, correct?*

*Yes, that is correct.* answered Voldemort calmly, appearing slightly unfocused.

"Er – I'm sorry – I don't understand you," said Odgen nervously.

"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry?", said Dumbledore quietly.

"Yes, I – Professor, I don't understand... who's that man?", asked Harry, not really expecting an concrete answer from Dumbledore.

"Then you have noticed-"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, you will see, Harry, my boy." said Dumbledore merrily, not disappointing Harry's expectations in regard of giving an answer.

The man in racks was now advancing on Odgen, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

"Now, look-" Odgen began, but too late: there was a bang, and Odgen was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.

"Morfin!" said a loud voice.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the first, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair and wrinkled face gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Odgen on the ground.

"Ministry, is it?" said the older man, looking down at Odgen.

"Correct," said Odgen angrily, dabbing his face. "And you I take it are Mr. Gaunt?"

"'S right," said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Yes, he did!" snapped Odgen.

"Should have made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself."

"Defend himself against what, man?" said Odgen, clambering back to his feet.

"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth."

And while Harry watched Odgen mend his nose and stop the flow of the yellowish pus he tried to piece the facts together. Why did Dumbledore show him that? It had to be important, somehow, or maybe not, with Dumbledore you never knew.

But fact was that Morfin and Mr. Gaunt were both parseltongues and unless they obtained this ability through a rather uncommon accident like Harry had, which appeared to be highly unlikely, they had to be part of the Slytherin line. Plus, they lived in Little Hangleton, the same village Tom Riddle Sr came from. It could only be … but could it really? Harry watched Morfin retreat into the, um, house rather unconvinced. But he knew that too much incest could cause extreme deformation...

*Are you related to those people?* Harry decided to just ask matter-of-factly.

*Very good, Harry.* replied Voldemort, a strangely sweet tone in his voice before it changed to something closer to hate and disgust. *This is the family of my _dear mother._*

Harry processed this information, barely listening to Odgen and Gaunt, who were, he assumed, currently discussing Odgen's blood status. He thought he had it bad but at least the Dursleys were not disfigured... at least not _that _disfigured.

*In that case you should be glad that your mother chose Tom Riddle over Morfin or Gaunt... is she Morfin's sister?* Harry commented.

*Yes, she's his sister. And I am hardly _glad _that my mother ran off with some filthy muggle.*

In the meantime Harry followed Gaunt and Odgen in the house, where he also saw a girl, in no case looking any better than her brother and concluded that this had to be Voldemort's mother. Somehow seeing this satisfied Harry deeply, he knew for sure now that the man who had deprived him of his parents, his family, had had it no better than him.

*Why?* asked Harry. *Imagine what you would _look _like, or you could've died from some sort of strange gene mutation... I mean seeing your mother clearly tells me that you must completely look like your father.*

*You think this is incredibly funny, don't you, Potter?* asked Voldemort sourly but Harry knew that he knew who was right.

*I must admit I do see some irony in the fact that you, who wants to establish a regime of pureblood supremacy, does not suffer from strong after effects of inbreeding, thanks to your father being a muggle.* explained Harry.

*I thought you agreed to my believes.*

*I came to, yes, but I am convinced that something like this, inbreeding so closely is... too much.*

*Yes, it is. There is no use in _this_.*

They watched the rest of the memory unfold in silence, although Harry could feel the up and down of Voldemort's emotions, which reached a peek with the apparition of his father, the man said nothing. Harry was torn between a strange bewilderment towards the while scene and surprising impatience. He knew this was in the past and although it might be interesting, it bore no importance at all to him.

Dumbledore left the memory with Harry after Odgen had fled from the cottage when Gaunt almost choked his daughter for staring at the bypassing Tom Riddle.

"What happened to the girl at the cottage? Merope, or whatever her name was?" Harry knew he was obliged to ask this after all he had a caring nature, had he not?

"Oh, she survived," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry should sit down too. "Odgen apparated back to the Minisrty and returned with reinforcements fifteen minutes later. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Odgen, received six months."

"Marvolo... as in Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Harry asked, after all it had not been that easy to figure out.

"That's right, I'm glad to see you're keeping up. The old man was Voldemort's grandfather," said Dumbledore. "Marvolo, his don Morfin and his daughter Merope were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered several generations before Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as his son and rather more than his daughter."

"So Merope was … was _Voldemort's mother_?" Harry asked, playing Dumbledore's game, although he already new the answer to his own question.

"Yes, she was," answered Dumbledore. "And it happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed?"

"Harry nodded. "The man on the horse? The muggle Morfin attacked?"

"Very good indeed," beamed Dumbledore. _I'm not stupid, you know?_, thought Harry sourly. "Yes, that was Tom Riddle Sr, the handsome muggle who used to be riding past the Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished, secret passion."

"And they ended up married?" asked Harry, feigning disbelief. Truth be told he had a pretty good idea how they ended up married, the face of one certain Romilda Vane flashing through his mind. "I think you are forgetting that Merope was a witch," said Dumbledore. "I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being terrorised by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life , then, I am sure, she was able to give full reign to her abilities and plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years. Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?

"Amortentia," said Harry. "Or the imperius course?"

"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her ans I do not think it would have been too difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case within the few month after the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter Merope.

But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done.

From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her name or existence from that time forth. The shock of her desertion may have contributed to his early death or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."

"And Merope? She died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?" He felt an echo of long gone anger from said man like it was something he had regretted a long time ago and bore no more importance today.

"Yes, indeed," said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few month of their runaway marriagem Tom Riddle returned to the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around the neighborhood that he was talking of being 'hookwinked' and 'taken in'. What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying however the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he married her for this reason."

"But she _did_ have his baby."

"Yes, but not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant."

"Why? Did the potion stop working?"

"Again, this is guesswork," said Dumbledore, "but I believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical means- I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby's sake. If so, she was wrong on both counts. He left her, never saw her again, and never troubled to discover what became of his son."

Harry nodded his head objectively. *How did Dumbledore discover so much information?* thought Voldemort with a mix of wonder and annoyance.

"I think that will do for tonight, Harry," said Dumbledore after a moment or two.

"Yes, sir...," he hesitated. "How is knowing about Voldemort's past helping me, exactly?"

"Trust me, Harry, you will come to understand that this is very important."

Harry nodded his head again. "Oh, and, sir, am I allowed to tell Hermione everything you've told me?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider this. "Yes, I think Miss Granger has proved herself trustworthy. Mr Weasley too if you wish... though I must ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around how much I know or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets."

*That's a bit too late now.*

"Of course, sir. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Harry, my boy."

* * *

When Harry got back to the common room it was already very late. Most of the Gryffindors had gone to sleep by now, a few were still awake, not yet having found the motivation to get up from their comfortable, cushioned arm chairs. Hermione was still there too, and as much as Harry hated doing it, he told her what had happened in Dumbledore's bureau, recounting the memory they had watched and telling her about Dumbledore's 'guess work'. The intelligent girl was pretty amazed with what she heard, but could not come up with an idea to why Dumbledore thought such a memory to be oh so important.

Hermione was so curious and attentive that Harry , hadn't he known better, would have sometimes still had problems to believe she was only acting but he supposed that it was simply her natural curiosity she always showed when acquiring new information. When he was finally done with this last task he tiredly went up into the boy's dorm, thinking what he'd even liked about Ron and Hermione's company before. Talking about quidditch, classes, sweets and Hogsmeade trips had been fun to him, to his now seeming so much younger self, sure, but should he not have realized before that his life was more serious than that? Why did he even have the calamity to waist his time with pretending? Pretending to be carefree, normal...Because he had wanted to be like this, had longed for normality and he realized that was exactly why he had not seen through their charade.

But what was done, was done, and he decided to set his eyes upon the future. There were things in the present he needed to take care of...

Sitting cross legged on his four poster bed he murmured: "_Muffliato_." A very handy little silencing spell he had learned from Snape's book.

His dorm mates were in their beds already, but he did not want to risk waking them up or drawing their attention should they still be awake.

"Kreacher," he called into the darkness.

There was a sharp _pop_ and luckily for Harry, Kreacher apparated on his bed, hidden from curious eyes by the drapes.

"Silent, Kreacher, no throwing a fit," Harry warned and the old elf glared hatefully at him but remained silent, wishing his master a bloody death with his eyes only.

Harry almost smiled. "I have a task for you to complete and I want you to be _discrete_ about it, understand?"

"Yes, master," bit Kreacher out.

"That means you will not speak, write or convey, using whatever method, any information about this task to _anyone _except me. Make sure you are not seen, heard or suspected of even being around or knowing anything about this while carrying the task out. You will report to me _only_ when I call you. Is that clear?" asked Harry.

"Yes, master," replied Kreacher grudgingly, seeing all his opportunities of ratting Harry out slipping away. "What does master want Kreacher to do?"

"I want you to find the vanishing cabinet that is located within Hogwarts. Look everywhere for it and make sure you _hurry up._"

"Yes, master. Kreacher will do as master wishes," muttered Kreacher and Harry meant to detect a certain sarcastic undertone accompanying the word 'master'.

"Oh, and Kreacher? I did not punish you for your involvement in Sirius' death because it would have been noticed but if you mess this up be sure I'll find a way," added Harry, staring at the elf, who stared back in unfazed disbelief. "You can go."

"Yes, master."

* * *

**PLEASE REVIEW! What do you think? Like, don't? And what is Hermione up to? Ideas?**

**I promise the next chapter will be out sooner! I beg for your understanding because I'm working on an original story and an original partner story with my boy friend in the mo.**

**XOXO, Gossip Girl, um no, just kidding, you guys. =) Still me, Bizarre Dreamsacpes.**


	17. All The Walls Have Ears And Eyes As Well

**Again I'm sorry for the long wait. I'm at college now and I study medicine. Anatomy takes most of my free time but I try to write as much as I can.**

**My thanks go out to everyone who reviewed, you amaze me, you give me support, it means so much to me, thanks a lot. I hope you enjoy the following chapter.**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**All The Walls Have Ears And Eyes As Well**

October had not yet passed when a certain moody, or one could even say bad tempered, ill mouthed, certain old house elf had fulfilled his deeply hated master's assignment. Since said master had not ordered his house elf to immediately report success, much in contrary, forbidden to be contacted, the house elf, Kreacher his name, had hoped to keep the information as long as from his master, who was highly undeserving of Kreachers noble service, not even a Black and worst of all a filthy half-blood. But unfortunately master had developed the nasty habit of calling Kreacher to him in order to ask for his progress.

So it came to be that Kreacher had, as much as it pained him, relatively close to succeeding reported to his master that the vanishing cabinet of Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry was located in a magical room that only appeared sporadically. This description had neither been detailed nor quite correct but the house elf's master had seemed to know what was meant. That had naturally not been in Kreacher's interest, furthermore since there was another student obviously interested in the cabinet, Draco Malfoy, Mistress Cissy's son.

Draco Malfoy knew nothing of the house elf's thoughts and observations, he even hardly knew of his existence. No, there were a lot more pressing matters on his mind. Or foremost one matter. His service to the Dark Lord.

The initial confidence he had felt had slipped. No longer did he believe that it would be easy to open a secure passage into Hogwarts, since repairing the vanishing cabinet had proven a lot more difficult than he had assumed it to be. Truth was he had reached a dead end. After setting the first most obvious things right again, he did not know how to go on. He had tried different spells and charms but still the cabinet did not transport anything, not even the smallest device.

He had come to understand that one spell would not do to mend such a complex magical apparation, rather he would probably have to use a whole sequence to set all adjustments right again. Only that Draco actually had no idea of such things, angrily he remembered the Weasleys' flying Ford Anglia and had to admit to himself that Arthur Weasley would probably not have as many problems doing what seemed quite impossible to Draco.

Unfortunately his faltering progress had reminded him of the task that was even more difficult: Kill Albus Dumbledore. His first plan had been to fix the cabinet and deal with Dumbledore after that. He had believed until then he would have found a solution to the headmaster problem but no. Neither had he managed to fix the cabinet nor had an idea how to end the life of the most powerful currently living light wizard in Europe. The only good thing was that he had a lot of time left. And that the Dark Lord was not willing to risk contacting him in Hogwarts to check on his progress.

Due to his rather stressed situation Draco's grades had already started to drop slightly and he feared that they would continue to do so until he had successfully completely the task or suffered the consequences of not doing so. Draco always felt the strong urge to vomit when he thought about _that_, so he mostly tried not to think about it. But this particular feat became more and more difficult since his mother's last letter. She had carefully told him that she feared his father was loosing the Dark Lord's favor and her begging tone when she urged him to complete his task as soon as possible told Draco that the situation was more grave then she was willing to let Draco know. Especially considering that she had not wanted him to become a Death Eater at all, her sudden encouragement was extremely worrying.

Fear of failure, fear for himself, fear for his parents had even made Draco forget all about Potter's strange behavior that had unsettled him so in the beginning of the school year. Indeed he did not even feel irritated when Slughorn jovially invited Harry bloody Potter to his Slugclub Halloween Party and Potter arrogantly declined saying he had already accepted an invitation by the Minister himself. More than that Draco even failed to rile up Weasley, who was, although he tried to hide it, still boring the whole world with his jealousy.

Sometimes Draco really did wonder how the hell Potter had managed to survive the encounters with the Dark Lord, when he was such an infuriating idiot and only then Draco remembered that Potter might not be just that...

But currently as he entered the room of wishes his mind was elsewhere. It was exactly where it had been yesterday and the day before and the day before... with the thrice damned Vanishing Cabinet.

Draco sighed as he approached the huge, wooden cabinet, forcing himself to focus on the matter at hand.

_Pull yourself together, Draco. You can't drop this just because you are not in the mood... This is your chance! You can do this if you want to, _he thought.

Gingerly he touched the dark, raw wood. His chance. His chance to be legend, the Dark Lord's most faithful, the one who had finally defeated Dumbledore. He had brought a few notes he had collected in the library previously on analyzing spells, hoping that one of them would work on the cabinet. First of all he had to find out what _exactly_ was damaged, then he could focus on finding a counter. It would take more time than he had expected but he would fix this thing. And then... but that was later on.

Almost out of habit he opened the cabinet as if he could actually see any damage on the wood.

Then he gasped as his eyes caught something unexpected. On the bottom of the cabinet sat a white parchment note.

Nervously Draco picked it up, had it come from Borgin and Burkes? But that would not make sense the connection was broken... There was a message written in neat block letters, making it impossible to identify the writer.

With a sinking feeling Draco realized that this message must have been written by someone inside of Hogwarts, someone who _knew_... Maybe Severus? But no, he could contact him directly.

_Draco Malfoy, _had been written in black ink,

_know that I'm watching you. You need not worry as long as you do as you were ordered. I'm not going to expose or hinder you, on contrary I was ordered by the Dark Lord to supervise your work and aid if that should be necessary, though I hope that will not be the case. I trust that you will do your work to his satisfaction. Speaking of that, I recommend you to deal with Dumbledore soon. The sooner the better. I know this will probably fall on deaf ears but do not waste time with trying to uncover my identity. You have more important things to do._

Draco gulped. While reading he had realized:

The anonymous writer, probably another student in the Dark Lord's service, or who knew even a teacher, had to be still around since the ink was still wet in some letters, the note had to have been written shortly before he had entered.

For a moment he considered whether Severus had written the note. He looked around nervously but knew that whomever it was he or she would not make themselves known. But could it be? Had his teacher thought up a new method to persuade Draco to let the man 'help' him? Should that be the case this approach would be fruitless. Draco knew Severus for a very long time, he knew how close the man was to his own father.

Indeed, it had been a deeply impacting experience when little Draco Malfoy, more child than teen still, had overheard his father having sex with another man. Of course he had not recognized the strange sounds for what they were and had – something he deeply regretted afterward – gone to see what was happening. His dread at seeing his father doing _strange things_ with another man, things that should at least, he felt, – could they not be prevented – be done with his mother had matched his fear of being noticed. Shocked and very confused he had manged to retreat or rather flee unnoticed and after weeks of agonizing himself he had told his mother who had merely laughed and said that she knew and he should not worry about it, in years he would come to understand.

By now Draco _did_ understand how close Severus Snape was to his family and although he did not know for sure he suspected that their was a deeper connection between his mother and the professor as well. But that did not change things at all. He would not have his glory taken away by Severus Snape, this was his time. And although he did not have a plan yet Draco possessed enough confidence in his own intelligence to know that in time he would find the solution, no matter his current phase of growing desperation. This task, the task of fixing the cabinet was _made for him._ It was highly analytical work, a matter of mind. If he showed the Dark Lord that his abilities lay wit such things he would get more of such tasks in the future, right?

That was crucial to him, for if he completed his task to the Dark Lord's satisfaction, which he would, there was one weakness still Draco Malfoy was absolutely aware of. He was a lover of beauty, he did not want, could not stand to deal with anything else. He would not be able to stomach the torture, the gore – such ugly acts – his aunt loved to indulge in, hell, even his father. It was not like he had a problem with it being done (he was sure of that, he really was) as long as it was done away from him.

But this note hold a tone that did somehow not fit Severus Snape. There was a possibility but instinct or experience told Draco that Severus was not the author.

That meant, whatever was going on, it was more complex than Draco had assumed. He was not the only Death Eater in Hogwarts besides Severus. What else was happening around him that Draco was unaware of? Potter's strange behavior came to his mind again and he decided to begin there. Finding out what was up with the Boy Who Behaved Strangely would be a first step.

But the writer was still around... Should he try his luck and ignore the writer's demand to be left alone or should he pretend he had not realized he was not alone?

As curious as he was, Draco knew that it would only look as if he was asking for help should he confront the writer now. But even if he kept still now, he _would_ find out who the person was. Malfoys don't get played, ever.

* * *

_Bloody concentration stuff, my legs hurt,_ thought Dora Tonks sourly, sitting on the floor in a meditative posture that might have seemed relaxed to an unsuspecting onlooker if it was not for her furiously changing hair. _Whoever thought of this anyways, sitting around naked, this is absolutely ridiculous, and uncomfortable and I'm freezing, urg, this won't work anyways, how am I supposed to concentrate?_

"Okay, that's enough! I'm not doing this!" she exclaimed defiantly, smashing the heavy tome in front of her shut. The idiot author had no idea of what it was like to be a metamorphmagus anyways and sitting around naked was surely not going to help her. Just because the wanker was dead some hundred years did not mean he was right! Right?

It was not like she did not want to strengthen her metamorphmagic but this was not the way to make that happen. She decidedly uncrossed her legs, making a face as her muscles protested when finally freed from the previous luxating position. She struggled to her feet feeling a familiar tingle of numbness in her legs.

_Thanks for the help, _she thought sourly, glaring at the book still lying on the floor. She would certainly never again in her whole life do any kind of relaxation exercises or meditation ever again.

She hugged herself, rubbing her arms and shuddered a bit when her cold forearms brushed the sensitive flesh of her breasts. And why ever did she have to be naked to metamorph, really evolution had made a _big _mistake there, it was fricking cold, heating charms or not and she was just not used to it! Sure it would not do if she turned into a, let's say, dog and had her pants on, but still it made her feel totally exposed to the world and if she had ever been unsure of the grade of her exhibitionist tendencies she knew by now that she had none at all whatsoever!

"I swear if this goes on I'm going to equip myself with fur – permanently," she muttered darkly, before she started to giggle at her absurd words as she grabbed one of her coats she had left hanging over a chair. Wrapped in the soft material she instantly felt more comfortable and placated despite her former agitation.

She knew she was being stupid. She had by now quite gotten the hang on shifting in all thinkable forms and she doubted that anyone would notice something off or recognize her for who she was but she also knew that she had by far not exhausted her potential. She felt there was so much more she could be able to do and her Hufflepuff side just would not let her lean back and be satisfied with what was already satisfactory. She herself would not be pleased until she had perfected her abilities.

"Dora? Are you in there?" there was a soft knock on the door and Tonks had no problems recognizing the voice of her aunt. Suddenly she did not feel as clothed in the robe as she had before.

She nodded before answering: "Yes, I'm here, come in."

Bellatrix needed no further invitation. Stepping into the room she said:

"I came to see how you are doing..."

Tonks noticed her eyes flickered over her bare feet and exposed décolleté but if she realized that her niece wore nothing beneath the robe she chose to not comment on it.

They were both still staying at Riddle Manor, since Bella did not wish to endanger her sister further whose house had been searched again after Lucius had been broken out of Azkaban. The protections on the house were only very light, which was admittedly a risk, but also less likely to arouse anyone's suspicions. Besides the Dark Lord trusted both women to be able to escape should some uninvited guest drop in to snoop around.

Bella had not been present the last few days though since their Lord had required her to take part in several missions, an ordered Bella eagerly complied with.

"I could be doing better...," admitted Tonks. "I'm glad that you're back though, it was very lonely with nothing but _that_ around." She gave the hated book a disdainful stare.

Her aunt smiled at that but said nothing. Instead she asked: "Could you show me what you can do? I've never seen a metamorphmagus change more than their features and that was when you did it ... by what the Dark Lord told me you are able to do far more than that by now."

Tonks smiled a bit mischievously at her aunt's request, contemplating what would be the best. She she start with something really alien? But she did not want to creep her aunt out. Although she was known for her infamous insanity Tonks did believe even Bella had her limits. Maybe something that was closer to animagic first?

"A bit," smiled Tonks excitedly. "You see..."

And then she let the robe slip down and changed. She was indeed adapt but it should go smoother, faster, more natural...

Bella's eyes widened, they widened until there was white to be seen all around her irisis. Her mouth hang agape and she actually took a hesitant step back.

"Dear Merlin...," she choked and it sounded like a mix of awe, fascination and utter shock.

If Tonks would have been able to in her current form, she would have laughed her ass off, but like this she had to limit herself to dignified clicking what sounded probably very menacing and would have other people running in the opposite direction but Bella stared on in awe and wonder.

When Tonks began feeling a bit shaky on her legs (they were so thin, no, she would definitely not get used to this form) she changed further because if she had stumbled over like that, Bella would have probably laughed for the rest of her lifetime.

Her new form had Bella make eyes like galleons and she seemed unsure suddenly, as she did not know whether to believe her eyes or not. Curiously she stepped closer gingerly reaching out to touch her niece's leaves as if to check that what she saw was actually real.

Her hands glided over the sleek green, carefully at first and when the substance did not give away, more decidedly.

"This is …," she shook her head in amazement, then confusion seemingly not knowing which part of Tonks she should address. Then she started to laugh. "I can't believe this, it's incredible."

Proudly Tonks changed her upper torso and head back, her breast, abdomen and legs still covered in leaves to hide her nudity. She felt her cheeks redden immediately, not at least because of her exposure.

"It's not that much of an achievement... it comes naturally to me," she she smiled, embarrassed, but very joyful at her aunts praise.

Bella laughed even more at the sight of the quite unusual hybrid form Tonks had taken.

"Not much of an achievement? You morphed into an _acrumantula_ and if that was not enough into a _potted plant with pot_! And now into... _this_. Your talent is _amazing_," Bella clarified, her own joy still most visible on her face.

Tonks reddened even more, giving a very realistic impression of Ron Weasley's mad blush. Was she truly being too demanding towards herself?

"The book the Dark Lord gave me says I could do even more...," she said uncertainly, giving the tome on the floor a deeply suspicious look.

"Hm... I don't really know much about metamorphmagi," admitted Bellatrix. "What did our Lord say exactly?"

"Well, about the same you just did," Tonks grinned. "He said He doesn't really know much because he was never confronted with the subject, that's why he gave me the book, but... I think the author was not a metamorphmagus himself. He always writes along the lines of 'I think..', 'it is generally assumed' and so on and so forth. He claims that with the right amount of the concentration I would be able to completely vaporize myself and turn into an air draught..."

That sounded quiet unbelievable in her own ears. "I'm not sure whether this fellow was all right up here," she added, meaning the author, and tapped her head.

"How should that be possible?" asked Bellatrix, raising her eyebrows. "Transfiguration is only possible when the rough mass stays constant."

"Hm," she hummed, "according to _the book _a metamorphmagus has no definite physical structure or mass. I think that could be true, at least to a degree. After all I was able to turn into an acrumantula … not such a big one but at least a body which is more massive than mine. After all an animagus is exception case to that rule as well. I did not try something large yet, like a dragon, but I think I might..."

"A..._dragon_?," the other woman repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, why not? It's fun," Tonks smiled. "Although I'm more curious towards the air draught. The author even says that the natural or original form of a metamorphmagus is – and here I quote – 'a state of continuous metamorphosis'."

"A state of continuous metamorphosis?"

She nodded. "It seems kind of abstract but maybe... it feels so good to metamorph, really, so natural. It would be fantastic doing it all the time."

"But is that not difficult?", asked Bella. "It surely takes a lot of concentration..."

"Yes, it does," answered her niece and that was a point that made her dubious, too. "It is like something natural, just something I'm not used to... let's say like someone who was injured and has to relearn walking after spending too much time in bed, something you feel is natural to you but you still have to learn it... if that makes any sense."

"I does make a lot of sense, actually," nodded the older woman. "So what does the book say how you should learn it?"

Tonks groaned. "Meditation is the way to deep concentration," she quoted moodily. "I really tried but it won't work. I can't just, sit there and think nothing! It's impossible! The strangest things keep coming to my mind!"

Bellatrix snickered. "I don't understand the concept of meditation either. You cannot concentrate if the whole concept appalls you, you just can't calm down... so maybe, what do you do in your free time? For fun?"

Her aunt seemed a bit hesitant at the last question and Tonks found the question a bit unsettling, too, she just could not imagine what Bellatrix herself would do in her free time; what did she do for fun or relaxation? Tonks could not imagine her hanging out, or ready a book or... _whatever. _The thought even brought a small smile to her lips. Bellatrix had exchanged her life of being a carefree rich daughter who went shopping, fawned over guys and gossiped with her friends for a life in the service of the Dark Lord and maybe that was what her niece admired her for, for her determination to use her life to make a change, to give her life some kind of purpose, of sense instead of living only in the moment.

"Um... I like to listen to the _Weird Sisters_?"

"Is that a question?" smirked Bellatrix.

"No, okay. I like to listen to the _Weird Sisters_. They're my favorite band _ever_," said Tonks decidedly.

"Well, then maybe you should try that. It might be easier to reach the required depth of concentration if you do something that relaxes you."

"Hm, that might work... it's a good idea. I will absolutely try that and see if it helps me," she decided.

"I'm positive you will succeed," stated Bella. "You, Dora, bring pride to the Black family. Hm, if it weren't for your blood."

Bella pulled a face, if Tonks had not known better she would have said she was _sulking_. But then again, Bellatrix Lestrange did not sulk.

"_But_ I think I can – maybe - forgive that."

"Ah, are there extenuating circumstances?" asked Tonks.

"You remind me of what your mother could have been," Bella said softly, taking her niece's face in her hands, a deep unfulfilled longing in her haunted eyes. "I'm glad you chose the right path."

Tonks felt her eyelids flutter, her cheeks turning pink again, her leaves standing up and thus making a soft rustling sound. "Yes, I'm glad, too," she whispered weekly.

Seeing the reaction Bella frowned ever so slightly, her hands recoiling slightly.

"About..."

Dora closed her eyes, she had known that this was coming ever since she had had that talk with Harry in the kitchen.

"That wasn't, that's _not _what it seems, it's, it's nothing, really." she said quickly.

"It's nothing?" Bella laughed a little. "Ah, are you sure?"

That was not the reaction she had expected and Tonks was not quite sure what to make of it.

"I...," she stammered. "Please let me explain..."

"I'm all ears," smiled her aunt, her eyes showing an eery glint, that appeared a bit unfocused, a bit off.

"I... I fell in love with you," Tonks blurted out, not knowing where the sudden courage to deal out the truth came from. She felt that this was the worst, worst, worst, most embarrassing moment of her life and she would have given a lot to stuff those words right back into her mouth.

Bellatrix laughed shrill and incredulously. "You fell in love with..."

This reaction sobered the niece quickly... it was incredible, implausible. "Yes," she said resignedly. "I can't help it, it just happened. And... I'm sure as to why or _how_, I only know that when I saw your photo I felt like I had found a missing part of myself... oh Merlin, this sounds so stupid..."

But her aunt seemed to not have registered most of what she had said. "Where did you see a photo of me?" she whispered, her face suddenly empty and void.

"My... my mum had one."

"Andy _still _has a photo of me?" Bellatrix demanded lowly, indefiniable emotions flickering in her eyes, making them seem ablaze and mad. This expression frightened Tonks and she unconsciously moved backwards.

"How...," the woman appeared far away, staring unfocused, "_dare_ she after what she did … to me?"

Tonks did not know what exactly her mother _did to_ her aunt, but she knew that Andromeda had left her family behind for Dora's father. Just like she would leave her parents for the family her mother had deserted.

After struggling with her self in a fury that she did seem unable to direct or pinpoint, Bella suddenly focused on her niece.

"Dora," she said. "Never... never leave your family." She crossed the distance Tonks had built up quickly. "Never leave _me._"

"I won't," promised Dora, quickly without even thinking about it twice.

"How can you say that?" asked her aunt, scrutinizing her, searching for the tiniest sign of lie or doubt. "How can you even _know_ that?"

"I just do," Tonks said easily, this was the one thing she was absolutely certain of.

Bella shook her head mockingly. "Even Narcissa would throw everything away for Draco."

"I wouldn't. I feel it. I know and I won't."

"Those are only words, words mean noth-"

"_Those _are not only words. I exposed my heart to you and I'm not taking it back."

Silence.

"Now if that didn't sound sappy."

"Hm."

"But also true."

"Hm."

"Dora, what am I going to do with you?"

"Love me."

* * *

**That's it. I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, I'm undecided really.**

**You tell me... did you like it? What could have been better? Too OOC? Next chapter will be Harry focused again, and guess what it's Halloween... Harry meets Remus and takes a date to Hogsmeade... who will it be? (Okay, now this sounded very dramatic, it won't be that special, really. But please, guess! It's always fun!) So I hope this gave you some inside to the idea of metamorphmagic I use in this story. Tonks is really powerful, she also is in canon, I don't know why JKR did not work with this concept a bit more.**

**Review please!**


	18. Fragments Of A Broken Life

**Author's note:**

**I am truely sorry that I have not updated for such an unbelievably long time. I must say I have no excuse. I hope you still enjoy this as much as I do. Yes, yes, I do although my update pace might not have shown it. If you're still reading this, let me congratulate you on your exceptional staying power! In my own and your interest I will try to get into writing faster again... Thank you for your patience!**

**A big thanks also goes out to everyone who took the time to read and review this story!**

**The story so far... (since it's been so ridiculously long)**

… **After spending his summer mostly in the company of Bellatrix and Tonks Harry returns to Hogwarts, where he meets Horace Slughorn, the new Potions teacher, who has an interest in promising students. He comes to possess Snape's old Potions book and meets Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister. He agrees to publicly show his support of the Ministry and in turn is promised to be able to take a look in the DMLE, where he supposedly wants to work after finishing Hogwarts. This oficially ends his friendship with Ron who reacts deeply jealous. On Halloween (shown in this chapter) he has previously agreed to meet with Remus Lupin, who has something important to tell Harry and later on will attend the Ministry's Halloween celebration to uphold his end of the deal with Scrimgeour.**

* * *

**Burning Desire**

**Fragments Of A Broken Life**

The day of Halloween 1996 arrived cold and stormy. Water was pouring down from the skies in seemingly never ending cascades, saturating earth, stone and skin alike. Clouds, huge and of the darkest gray towered over the land, beaten by whips of harsh, cold wind, a striking opposite of the long hot summer they had had.

But none of this could dampen the mood of the students of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. After to months of homework, classes, hard work and strained lessons a day of freedom, even though out in the cold, seemed more like a refreshing shower than anything else.

Though it was not the work alone that had their young minds craving distraction. Two months had passed, two months of reading the most dreadful news each morning that was to come, two month of waiting for letters from home telling them that everything was fine, that _everyone_ was fine, two month of fearing that someone was _not _fine, for some two month of enduring the hardest pain of loss.

Two month of war, seperated from their families, fearing for the worst, hoping for an end.

For them it was a day to forget, if only for a few hours, a day to spent with their best friends, going to _Zonko's_, or joking around at the Howling Hut, enjoying a butterbear at the _Three Broomsticks_, and finally the feast. A few hours in which they could pretend that everything was like it used to be last year and that the worst they had to fear was a detention with Filch, the gruesome janitor.

The number of those who were experiencing quite the contrary was very small in comparison. Those who did not see tragedies in the mornings paper but news of success, of hope and of change. Those who saw a chance for themselves, a gain, an aim. Those who were quite exhilerated and did well to hide a small smile here and there, those who had gotten accustomed to putting on somber masks, afraid of not fitting in with general atmosphere of foreboding and fearful anticipation.

And yet that day they were united, as split as they might have been in mind, they were all looking forward to leaving the ancient halls of the magical institution to expose themselves to the chilling rain.

Once again one Harry Potter made his way down to the small wizarding village Hogsmead with the beautiful asian Cho Chang, this time squeezed under a small black brolly threatening to give way to the elements.

Much to his friend Hermione's well hidden amusement and glee said by now tattered brolly had once been Harry's old divination book, at least before he transfigured it quite unceremoniously, being the next best item around that he had no use for anymore.

They could have used a charm to preserve from getting wet, that was true but bringing a brolly had seemed like a good idea to Harry, furthermore he had found some kind of nostalgic joy in finally giving that horrid book some purpose at least and Cho had seemed to enjoy the gesture as well.

So instead of reminding him of the countless charms they could have used to protect themselves from the nasty weather she had happily pressed her lean body against him to fit under the brolly.

Harry ignored his bitterly freezing feet, already soaked wet in Dudley's old sneakers and watched Cho's face intently while she chatted happily about this or that. He smiled, gave polite comments and laughed lowly at her small jokes, all the while his eyes never leaving her face, more than happy to let her talk. At first she had blushed but quickly and quietly she accepted his close surveillance.

And as her words dragged on Harry knew exactly why he had, back in his third year, chosen her to be his love interest. She was undeniably beautiful, slightly exotic but not too much so, her features soft and appealing, her eyes soulful, her smile soft. She was intelligent, but not frighteningly so, witty but not sly, funny but not giddy. All in all, and Harry was painfully aware of that, Cho Chang was a _nice_ person.

He had chosen her because of that and because of her apparent talent in Quidditch, but most of all because he had had nothing to fear from Cho Chang and because he had thought that he had absolutely no chance of ever asking her out.

He could as well have picked Pansy Parkinson, he had believed that he would develop as many feelings for Cho as her would for that bitch, meaning none at all.

But after one year of idolizing her that had changed and he had even found the motivation to ask her out. After being rejected because of Cedric Diggory, he had not felt jealous, yet believed his feelings to be true, while in honesty they were as shallow as his wish to be heterosexual for Ron Weasley's sake. So he had spent another year idolizing Cho Chang and asked her out a second time, this time being accepted.

But Cho had disappointed his expectations, being far less superficial than other girls her age, Cedric's early death had wounded her deeply and Harry's date had been nothing but a bitter shell of herself.

After another half a year Cho had finally recuperated and had become the girl Harry's mind had portrayed and yet he felt more detached than he ever had, more so than when he had asked her to the Yule Ball, even more so than when she had kissed him underneath the mistletoe, crying all the while over a dead boy he could not possibly replace.

He wondered idly how things would have developed if she had been so _whole _last Valentine's Day at _Madam Puddifoot's_. Maybe, just maybe, despite all odds, he would have fallen in love with her...? He found that there was not much enjoyment in that train of thoughts.

She was a nice person, yes, a kind heart, as some would say, the type of girl who would impress through flawless behavior, rather than through stunning beauty, academic success or admirable creativity.

She was, as Harry had correctly assumed when thirteen years old, someone who would never hurt you intentionally, someone safe to be around. But that was, for Harry, neither enough nor someone he could relate to.

So when he kept watching, and his mind comprehended all of Cho's wonderful characteristics, his heart felt nothing. He did not enjoy her company, he did not dislike it either. He did not care to an absurd degree of completeness that was astounding and he felt so emotionally empty that it almost hurt.

He had wished it away, oh yes, how he had wished those terribly painful feelings away after Sirius' death. And now, now he could not even regret that there was nothing. But, oh, how he craved for that emptiness to be filled and longingly he remembered the unmatched joy the casting of the unforgivable curses granted, but he knew it was a shallow joy, a sensation of highest bodily lust, yes, but one that would leave him even emptier once it was over. _But it could be repeated again and __again..._

He hated his old friends, yes, and he hated Dumbledore and that gave him life and spirit, but one day they would be gone as well, and nothing would be left for him...but the ashes of his old life.

It would draw him even closer to Voldemort, even closer to the only constant in his life, who had been so right (and Harry hated when he was right) when saying he was the only one who Harry had.

And knowing that Harry was aware that he was lost, that he had lost, to his enemy no less, indeed being lost to that person, it did not pain him. It filled him with joy rather than bitterness, glad he could offer something that was wanted, not having to be afraid of loosing himself, but being beckoned to do so.

He did not have to work much for fulfilling Voldemort's expectations like he had with other people, not because they were lesser, but because it was no struggle for him to find out what was desired, it was all so easy, so natural, like Voldemort was the only real connection Harry had ever had to another person, it was destined. And it felt so good.

The only thing he would ever understand... having suffered too much pain in his young life already, pain would be the only thing he would ever be able to understand completely, the only thing beknownst to him that joy could be taken from.

And while walking with Cho Chang, the main actress of his first pubertal imaginations, left him entirely too cold, he, himself, not being able to bring himself to actually _listen_ to the words that were spouting out of her all to well curved mouth, he thought about Remus, who he was going to meet, the last living connection to his parents.

Surely Remus would not be in on Dumbledore's schemes, he would have thought a few months ago, but now that knew what people were capable of, people of whom he had thought that they actually _loved _him (what a ridiculous thought all together, maybe Voldemort was right after all, maybe love was nothing but an illusion? He could not in all honesty say that he had found evidence contradicting that theory.) he would not find himself able and / or willing to believe that Remus would be any any better than his best friends.

He would see for himself today if that best friend of his parents was to be condemned or not, and somehow it dawned on him, it would be easier if he were to because honestly, what if Remus was true to everything he had expressed regarding Harry?

What was he to do in the face of greater innocence than he would ever posses again? He realized that by now he was no better than Ron, Hermione or Dumbledore, he had without doubt fallen into Voldemort's trap, and willingly so, he had taken a one way ticket so to speak, and he was okay with that, because he could not bring himself to care.

Those who are to weak to seize power, indeed.

But Remus... should he actually be free of all guilt... innocent Remus Lupin... What to do? As much as he wished he did not care about that anymore, as much as he wished he could be numb to all, so entirely numb to everything and anything, he could not help but _still _grieve the future he had lost.

He did not think that he would be able to cut off all bridges to a thwarted past, but surely Remus would blame him, hate him even, for the choices he had taken.

He closed his eyes. _I live in the present, not the past... it does not matter. It is my life and it is about now._ he thought. He would not wager in his choice... not to be a victim again... never.

Cho had fallen silent and obviously exhausted every topic she had deemed light conversation. They had neared Hogsmead and the silence stretched between them, quiet uneasily. Harry was aware that she wanted him to say something, so he broke away from the worrying stray of thoughts hoping at least for some distraction.

"So... were do you want to go?," he asked lightly, dreading that she might demand Madam Puddifoot's, but still leaving the choice to her.

Cho actually blushed a bit, maybe pleased that he led her decide, but most likely remembering their embarrassing date last Valentine.

"How about the _Three Broomsticks_?", she suggested carefully, clearly remembering last year.

Harry nodded in agreement, secretly glad that she'd decided for the common pub instead of the lover's nest.

He led her inside the pub once they had arrived, she being most clearly glad to have escaped the rain, their legs soaking wet up to the knees, despite Harry's attempt to keep them dry. After finding an adequate table, not too secluded, yet not drawing too much attention, he busied himself getting them a warming butterbeer, his thoughts lingering with the werewolf.

"So Cho...," he began, handing the drink over to her as he said down. "You're not playing Quidditch anymore. Why's that?"

"Oh," she blushed a bit. "You should have noticed …. that I, well, am still in my sixth year."

Of course he had noticed, besides it had been quiet gleefully discussed between Lavender and the Patil Twins at breakfasts.

"About that...," he started, but Cho cut him off.

"It's nice of you not to harass me with questions unlike all the others... but last year was too much for, I mean with my mum being pressured at the Ministry and the DA, Umbridge, I simply failed to perform. So I want to do it all right this year, you see? I'm laying low, concentrating on my studies, it's not like I'd ever be a professional Quidditch player anyways..."

Harry smiled a little at that. "Do you want to be one?"

Cho laughed rather humorlessly. "I would lie if I said I'd never thought about it, but actually I've no idea what I want to do after school. Playing Quidditch, it's sort of a stupid ... fantasy I used to have." She sounded bitter when she said that, much like she was repeating words that had been imparted on her by an authoritative figure, most likely a parent. "I'm not good enough anyways. And it's not fun any more... not after Cedric-"

No, no, no! She would not start talking about _Cedric_ again, would she? But Cho herself seemed to realize that her train of speech was not going in a good direction.

She cleared her throat. "Anyways, I'm not so sad I've one more year to think about what I'm going to do with my life." She took a deep gulp of butterbeer. "What about you, Harry? Do you still want to be an auror?"

"How do you know that I wanted to become an auror?" he asked her, a bit bewildered that she knew, it had been an idea he used to toy with, a dream he used to have, having actively told about it only Ron, Hermione, probably Ginny sometime, McGonagall and Umbridge (rather unwillingly, though).

"Oh, I heard it in the DA last year. Colin Creevey is pretty informed about you, you know that?" Harry groaned and she peaked at him curiously. "Did I recognize past tense in your question?"

"Past tense? I wouldn't know... are you sure you heard that?"

"So you still want to be an Auror, just to make this clear?"

"Of course! All my electives have been chosen so that I can become an auror. It's what I want to do since fourth year!" exclaimed Harry in mock conviction.

Cho seemed to think about that for a moment, probably calculating. "Since Moody?", she asked a bit incredulously.

Harry nodded. "A bit ironic really, since he turned out to be a Death Eater. But he made being an auror look so-"

"Bad for your psychic health?"

"No... exciting!"

"We in Ravenclaw were actually surprised that he was quiet competent in teaching. Sad to admit that the best teacher we had in seven years now was a Death Eater posing as a mad ex-Auror," remarked Cho, sounding serious. She did not seem to realize how humorous her statement sounded, especially phrased so dryly.

"Considering your words I take it that you wouldn't want to become an Auror?", Harry asked conversationally.

"No... not really. Don't get me wrong, it's a very important job to be done, especially nowadays, when... well, I just think, I'm not cut out for it, there are probably lots of people who would do better than me. I just don't think that it's the right thing for me. Do you know what I mean?" she explained, looking slightly worried that he might not understand.

"Yeah, sure," nodded Harry. "After all it's an important decision... not something you want to regret later on."

Cho sighed. "I'm really afraid, though, whether we will even come to worry about such things. It doesn't look like the Ministry's making any progress in catching the Death Eaters... To me it looks like it's only getting worse."

Harry nodded neutrally. He had the nagging feeling that she would end up asking about the prophecy – at least she had enough tact to try wrapping it up.

"Unfortunately it probably will. I think there are many who never dared to openly support Voldemort, fearing legal prosecution. The longer the Ministry remains unsuccessful in taking him down, the more of them will speak up."

"You really think so, Harry? I can't imagine-"

Harry shook his head. "Muggle studies."

"Huh?"

"Why doesn't a muggleborn teach muggle studies? Someone who actually _knows_ about muggles? Hermione visited that course because it was so _entertaining_. Well, she said that it was 'interesting to see how wizards view the muggleworld' or something along the lines. But from what she said Burbage is mostly as clueless as her students. And what about the Ministry? Any muggleborns in high ranking positions? Not even in the _Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office_! That doesn't seem very liberal to _me_." he reasoned and on Cho's face quickly dawned realization.

"I've never looked at it like that." she frowned. "It seemed to be okay as it was."

"And that's the problem. Most of the people aren't even consciously aware of the intolerance and discrimination already existing. And muggleborns do have no lobby. Their families who could support them are not even a part of this world. They are new to this world and they rather accept the situation as it is... What should they do themselves? Seven years is a very short time to gain a thorough understanding of the machinations of this society. Apart from that the old families hold all the political weight. Just look at Slughorn ... he openly encourages students to become a part and make use of a corrupt and closed off society. Of course to someone who benefits from the workings of the system would think that everything is 'okay as it is'."

"But surely people would not be so set in their ways that they would simply ignore-" Cho's gasped.

"Do you really think that? There will be many who will just duck their heads and wait for the outcome." deadpanned Harry. He had seen enough for their ignorance last year.

"But they can't stand by when something so obviously _wrong _happens right in front of their faces!" exclaimed Cho, sounding as well troubled as not really convinced of her own words.

"Of course it is wrong," said Harry. Ahem. _Right_. "But it will not harm _them_. Or at least most are bound to believe that. Just like last year."

"What... what about the prophecy?", asked Cho. Here she went. "It was all over the Prophet this summer, but they're really unreliable... does no know what it says?"

Harry's mouth formed a strict line, he remained silent. Only thinking about the prophecy...

"I mean, I didn't want to pry," Cho added quickly. "I just wondered..."

Maybe she had learned that pressuring him for information was not a good strategy for a date either.

"No... it's okay. The Prophet's quiet right this time. It broke, fell down the stairs. No one heard what it said," Harry explained.

Cho seemed hesitant to believe him at first, maybe because of his reserved tone or initial silence, but she chose to ignore it. "Oh. That's a pity. I had hoped..."

"Yes. A pity," he agreed in clipped tones signalizing that he did not want to talk about it anymore.

She got the message remaining silent, her face though betrayed that she must be feeling slightly hurt at his obvious refusal to discuss such delicate matters with her.

"Harry, I'm still sorry about what happened last year with Marietta-" she tried again, probably considering that he might still feel betrayed for she had supported her treacherous friend back then.

But that, really, seemed most irrelevant now, rather meaningless to say the least.

"Cho, it's forgiven, I understand. Look, Professor Slughorn's over there. I'm going to say hi if you'll excuse me for a moment." And thus he temporarily fled from their table, fortunately the _Three Broosticks _was Hogsmead's most popular pub, he doubted very much that Slughorn would set foot in, say, _Madam Puddifoot's_.

He knew that it was not the smartest idea to leave Cho alone if he wanted to keep her around to escape Hermione's presence and prevent being constantly exposed to Romilda Vane's attempts at seduction. But he couldn't help it, Cho had not lost her affinity to bring up the most solemn topics.

He briefly remembered their wet kiss underneath the mistletoe as he was greeted by a cheery Professor Slughorn who immediately insisted that he was to shake a few hands before being dragged into the rather lengthy telling of an anecdote about one of Slughorn's former students.

While listening to Slughorn and voicing agreement from time to time he noticed Ron and Hermione sitting at a table in the opposite corner of the room, the former giving him a dark look. Hermione then noticed that Harry was watching them and nudged Ron not as subtly as she might have intended to. The red head immediately dropped his gaze.

He listened to Slughorn for a few more minutes before politely excusing himself when he felt that he had to return to Cho if he did not want this day to be even more of a disaster than their Valentine's date last term.

When he returned she was indeed, and not to Harry's surprise to be honest, a bit disgruntled but had apparently gotten his hint and did not carry on talking about the war or anything even remotely related to it.

They resumed some mindless chatter about one thing or another before Harry finally cut their time to a close when he saw the squiggled hands of Madam Rosmerta's wall clock behind the bar pointing fourteen o'clock.

He had told her beforehand that he was going to meet up with someone else today as well, and that _no_, it was not a date and Cho had arranged to be picked up by the horde of giggling girls that posed as friends of hers.

Their goodbye was rather awkward on Cho's part, Harry could see that she was greatly disappointed but intended not to show it.

For him it was more of a relief, really but it also meant that he was going to meet Remus now. And as he stepped outside, embraced by the floods of water still falling down mercilessly from the skies he was stunned to find his heart beating hard in his chest.

He had not realized how weary he really was, how much it unset him that he did not know what to make of this situation, he was not used to this. Mostly he had a concrete plan in his mind, his views set, he had rarely doubted his own decisions and never taken long to make one. But this, oh this, filled his heart and head to the brim with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

His hands were clam, he felt uncomfortably warm despite the frosty air and suddenly the chilly rain was very welcome.

*You are excited.* Pause. *Why?*

Harry's thoughts came to a halt. There were too many of his _own _thoughts in his mind already, he did not need Voldemort's too right now, but then again it was a distraction he could use to delay sorting out his problems a little further.

*For how long have you been listening in on me?* he asked.

*Why does the werewolf upset you so much?* the question sounded honestly curious and Harry knew that while Voldemort could easily see Harry's reasons in the boy's mind he still did not _understand_.

*I still feel attached to him ... although I'm not sure about him, his motives... I still feel like … I don't want him to be a part of Dumbledore's conspiracy.* confessed Harry. _Weakness...I am weak_, thought Harry, only to himself_, he will die... someday he will die... they will_ all_ die one day, except for me – and Voldemort._

*You don't even know him.* declared Voldemort. *You've seen him for the first time three years ago and not too often from then on. He must be nothing to you. A stranger.*

Harry had known that Voldemort would say something along those lines and _rationally_ he was right, Harry knew almost nothing about Remus Lupin and apart of the time they had spent in a classroom together he had indeed not been around the man much.

*I know, but in case he knows nothing of Dumbledore's manipulations... I don't know, he was a very close friend of me parents'.* thought Harry, knowing that this argument would probably not impress his counterpart in the slightest.

_And Remus will probably never understand my decision..._

Harry shuddered slightly as an icy wave of incomprehension and light contempt washed over him. *That is one of the most feeble reasons I ever heard for something.* sneered Voldemort and somehow he managed to pull of the expression even in his thoughts, which was kind of impressive if not slightly worrying. *You _sympathize_* his emphasize on the word made it sound like one of the most disgusting things he could imagine *with him because he _might_ be collateral damage of the old man's fight for the _greater good_, as well.*

*Phrase it how you want to phrase it, but fact is that I do feel this way, Voldemort.* pointed Harry out. He had discarded many of his morals in the last months but this was something he was unwilling to part with despite how much good it would probably do him.

*Foolish. You are delusional, Harry Potter.*

*I cannot be like you. Not entirely.* Maybe he was too broken already or maybe he was not broken enough.

*Oh, I don't want you to be like me. Entirely.* answered Voldemort, his tone much lighter than it had been before, even amused. *That would be – boring. Entirely.*

Harry could almost hear him smirk.

*On the contrary, I'm very much interested how you will deal with this situation. It's quiet entertaining to see you so..._ torn up_.*

He did not reply when climbing up the muddy path towards the Shrieking Shack. He could see Remus's silhouette already, the man (or at least he assumed that it was Remus) was leaning against the fence around the shack, unperturbed by the cold and wetness.

*I hope you're going to enjoy the show then.* thought Harry sourly and was met with reassuring amusement. _I hope I am going to enjoy it as well._

When he drew nearer the shape moved towards him and as the distance decreased Harry recognized Remus Lupin's worn out features, his shabby cloak and his dark, tired eyes which looked more haunted and sad than Harry had ever seen them before.

"Harry," he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath as he scrutinized Harry carefully.

"Hi, Remus," smiled Harry weakly.

They took no further action to greet each other, the realization creeping into Harry's mind that his former Professor might be even more weary of the talk they were going to have than Harry himself.

"I am glad you came." Harry nodded. "We should move inside, if you don't mind."

"No," Harry concurred with him. "The _Hog's Head _is rather empty."

In silence they marched back to the town, hurriedly, both finding the tension between them insufferable. They did not hesitate to step inside the dingy pub, only few other guests were present, very much like when Hermione had held the first DA meeting here last year.

Remus seemed to be acquainted with the innkeeper for they exchanged curt nods, before the man behind the bar returned to polishing a glass with his grimy dish towel and Remus selected one of the more secluded tables.

*The innkeeper reminds me of someone I know* thought Harry. *But I can't place just who...*

*I wouldn't be surprised.* thought Voldemort dismissively. *That's Aberforth Dumbledore.*

Harry stared at the pub owner. Aberforth _Dumbledore?_

"Harry, is something the matter?" asked Remus.

Harry's head snapped around to look at the man, before giving a hasty nod. "No, it's nothing," he said.

*Aberforth Dumbledore as in...* He remembered Dumbledore saying: '...even my own borther, Aberforth...'. *As in Dumbledore's _brother_?*

*Yes, most people don't even know that Dumbledore has a brother. Unlike Albus, Aberforth never made much effort … to make his existence known.* answered Voldemort, clearly uninterested in the subject.

*Wait a sec* Harry demanded. *You want to tell me that while _Albus _is up there leading Hogwarts, his own brother is the owner of the most shabby pub I've ever seen in _closest proximity_, and still their relationship is apparently _so good_ that no one even noticed they were related? _Why?_*

*I've never cared much for Dumbledore's private life.*

"How are you doing, Harry?", asked Remus after a while, his question sounding neutral enough, but Harry was not fooled for one moment. Remus wanted to know how he was dealing with Sirius' death.

It quickly put the strange situation of the two Dumbledore brothers out of his head, easily subdued when he was presented with more urgent matters.

"I'm fine," said Harry honestly, locking eyes with Remus amber ones. "It's … not been easy for me, but after thinking about everything that happened in the Department of Mysteries I came to the conclusion that I – that _we all_ – should move on. Not like nothing happened," he added pointedly, "but despite it. I think that's what he wanted, what he would want us to do. We're still alive and we should keep on living. Looking back with sadness but not despair."

Remus smiled sadly at that. "Wise words, Harry. You have … aged beyond your years. You shouldn't have had to do that."

"I know." said Harry. "But it happened. And I can't take it back. I'm glad you came today, Remus."

"I'm glad you came, too," said Remus tiredly.

"How did you spent the summer?" asked Harry, regarding the man carefully. He looked as worn out as usual, but there was something new to his expression, a finality that had not been there before, his features spoke of resignation and the deep desire for rest that was long overdue.

"The same as last year," whispered Remus silently. Harry knew what he meant, he knew that the other had been sent to recruit the werewolves for Dumbledore after the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort's rebirth. "It gets easier to stay with them the longer I am there … I have met Fenrir Greyback quite a few times."

His voice was barely audible by then, underlining the significance of his words. Harry could not place the name Fenrir Greyback although he believed he might have come across it before, maybe in the newspapers.

"Who is Fenrir Greyback?" he inquired carefully.

"A werewolf," murmured Remus as if talking to himself. Then his head snapped up and he leveled his eyes on Harry. "He was the one who … who bit me when I was a child." He sighed. "I'm not the only one though... Greyback, he is _focused_ on children. He positions himself … before the full moon, so that he near to his victims when he turns. He bit me after getting in a fight with my father, to punish him."

"I didn't know that. Greyback... does he follow a purpose?" inquired Harry. "Does he want to create more werewolves?"

"He is ill, Harry, insane. There is no _reason_ in his actions," stated Remus sadly.

*Lupin is right. Greyback is psychotic. It can happen when a werewolf is separated from pack long enough. They are not adapt to being without pack. Greyback might have lost his mind, the level of aggressiveness he shows is not in the werewolf's nature – usually.* commented Voldemort.

"And now you have met him? With the other werewolves?" asked Harry, trying to imagine how Remus might feel in the man's presence. Did Greyback remember him?

"Yes," nodded the other. "He's searched them out, trying to convince them to join the Dark. He's Voldemort's speaker with the werewolves and I fear they are prone to listen to him. The Ministry did not show us too much tolerance. They all desire better lives, so they might easily listen to Greyback."

*Did you not just tell me that Greyback is psychotic? Or do I need me hearing checked?* demanded Harry.

*Why, yes, he is.* confirmed Voldemort bemusedly.

*Then tell me again just why do you let _him _be your speaker?*

His inquiry was met by a mental sigh. *Greyback wants pack. He desires it – more than anything else. He is proud and he is strong enough to be their leader. He might be feared even by some of his own, but he thus can inspire obedience and he will not hesitate to do what it takes to return his race to the freedom he so longs for.*

While that could be deemed logical Harry could not quiet understand his former defense professor. "So why are you staying with them? It sounds like they can't be swayed to help Dumbledore anyways?" asked Harry.

"Well, the thing is," he started, but interrupted himself again. "First off you should know how a pack works. Fenrir is the one who turned me, who made me a werewolf, he is my _sire._ And he remembers very well who I am. As my sire he has a certain degree of control over me and surprisingly he has not used it against me yet. He requires me to stay with the pack though."

"You don't sound as though you minded too much," observed the raven haired teen.

"In fact I don't. I'm not happy that Greyback is there but _does_ leave me be most of the time. I feel it's where I belong, with _them_, Harry. I came to understand that even if Greyback had not forbidden me to leave I would stay." He closed his eyes. "I came to a decision and I hope you will not hate me for it, Harry. Believe me, I _regret_ so much, and if I could relive my live I would do many things differently. I wish I could have given you more but seeing my _condition _I could not and I cannot now. It pains me but... I can't fight Greyback and this war at once. All of those I knew are dead by now, I have lost everything, everyone of my friends to it. I can't give more. I can't continue this. I'm sorry, but I will leave this part of my life behind. I wish you could do the same but I know you can't. And I really hope for you to win. I will offer you all the help I am able to give should you ever need it. But most of all I ask you for your forgiveness. I know that I am abandoning you but please be aware it is not out of ill will."

Lupin stared at him his eyes full of fright, fear that he might be condemned for his treachery by the boy sitting in front of him, who had so brave and selflessly fought for their ideals, ideals Lupin still shared but had no strength left to fight for. The boy who had sacrificed even more already and far more than the wolf was aware of and yet had never complained.

"You thought … you thought I would hate you for this? For, for trying to build a normal life? You think I could not understand how much you want to stop fighting?" asked Harry. _You think I would hate you for giving up you responsibility and placing it on the remaining fighters, placing it on me? Yes, of course I do... if there was such a responsibility._

"You don't?", asked Remus hopefully.

"No. I … possibly couldn't," said Harry. _Since my decision weighs even more..._

"I – thank you, Harry," said Remus honestly, seeming infinitely relieved.

Harry laughed dryly. "Don't thank me. Just show me tolerance. You're not the only one who made up his mind."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Remus, frowning, considering possible meanings.

"This is not the place to discuss it... or the time. I should be heading back to Hogwarts now. Just bear it in mind. Please."

Remus nodded slowly. "Yes, I will. Thank you again for understanding me. Know that you can always write to me if you need my help. I will do what I can."

"I will think of it." He paused. "Does Dumbledore know, I mean did you tell him? I suppose this also means that you're leaving the Order?"

"I – I did not tell him, I guess I was afraid of what he might say." Or do. Remus had probably subconsciously done the right thing. "But since he's Dumbledore he might already know it anyways."

And that was very likely.

"Do you think he wouldn't accept it?" asked Harry carefully.

"I am not sure, to be honest," admitted Remus hesitantly. "Although I feel that it would be proper to talk to him and explain-"

"No! No, it's better if you don't confront him about it."

The man seemed slightly taken aback, but nodded his head. "Maybe you're right. Dumbledore has enough trouble as it is."

They exchanged a few more good wishes before parting ways, Harry being not nearly satisfied with the talks outcome, though he had not seen a way to outright ask Remus if he knew about Dumbledore's deeds. He had no means to check whether the werwolf would lie to him or not and furthermore knowing that the _Hog's Head's_ barman was Dumbledore's own brother he felt not secure enough to brush such a delicate subject. He had decided to postpone that topic to a later date.

He was surprised though about Remus' decision to pull out off the war, while he welcomed it he had not expected it. He did not like what he had been told about Fenrir Greyback in the slightest, he was not sure what to make of it.

And while Remus had turned his back on Dumbledore his words had clearly shown that he was not ready yet to be confronted with Harry's changing sides – not yet anyways. Maybe spending some time with fellow werewolves would open his mind more. However he would have to find a way to talk to Remus privately where no one could so easily overhear them. He felt that there was a chance to – what? To gain the man's acceptance? His continued support? His company?

He walked back to Hogwarts deep in thought, being later than he had anticipated, when he heard news spreading of Katie Bell being attacked. From what he could make out, she had been send to St. Mungo's and while the story's about her health's state differed drastically, most pupils seemed to agree on the fact that the whole thing had had something to do with a cursed necklace that had been meant for the school's esteemed headmaster. One Albus Dumbledore.

All of this brought Harry to the conclusion that he was going to have a very serious talk with Draco Malfoy, very soon.

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